The Rogue's Conquest
by ScarlettRainn
Summary: AU;Rated M for later chapters. He stormed into her life like a black hurricane, rocking the very foundations of Marian's world, and as quick as he arrived he was gone, taking her innocence with him. Eleven years have past and now Sebastian Vael is back, as her fantasy come to life and her most dangerous adversary.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so, I know that I kind of went dark. I get it's been two yearsish at least. I feel super bad about it. I've wanted nothing more than to complete this tale. When I first started it I had every intention of finishing it quick. Unfortunately, life and writers block had other plans._

_Here's the deal, I'm finishing this bitch! I have to, for one I'm still getting messages of such love and support, (don't think for one second I've ignored those! __) and two, I have to finish it for myself. _

_That being said I've decided to reread what I have, just to refresh and revitalize my memory, I'll also be fixing/tweaking the chapters as I go, so I'll be reposting as I finish each one. It won't be huge differences, so if you have no interest in rereading the story that's totally cool, you won't miss any details._

_I don't know if there are many people out there still interested, but I'm posting anyways, because, well, why the eff not?_

_-Scar_

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter One_

All evening long the sorrel-haired man, with his bizarre turquoise eyes watched her as surely as a hungry drake stalked it's prey, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop him. No matter that he laughed at the wicked tales his two cohorts boisterously narrated, or raised his tankard of Redcliffe's finest in a roared toast to the fiddlers tune - along with everyone else in the crowded tavern tonight, - Marian felt the man's strange orbs stalking her as she snaked from table to table, always watching, burning her nerve endings till they parted, leaving them twitching, hectic palpitations under the predatory fire in his clear scrutiny. Her heart skittered high into her throat from his primal gaze and she pleaded quietly to the Maker himself to distract the enchanting rogue. Just one blast of lightening, a little divine intervention was all she would need! Had there not been laws about such things she'd do it herself, however explaining a crispy, very well paying customer to Lloyd, and worse, Templars would be… _tricky_, to say the least.

Why couldn't he tell she wasn't like the other serving maids? She kept her skirts well past her ankles, her scarlet locks tied pristinely back under her cap, and her blouse buttoned all the way up to her neck, the Chantry sisters would seem a more willing target than she. Marian was proud of being a lady, she didn't whisper her name to the militiamen; she certainly never made plans for moonlit walks with them, and she didn't waste the meager wage Lloyd paid on foolish things like booze, or baubles. She had Carver and Bethany to look out for. With their parent's dead, Marian was next in line to be the tiny families' matriarch, a job she took very seriously! Not a man, nor woman could ever accuse her of being too bold. Then, of course, there was also the nagging problem of her mage status. Even if she wanted to be bolder, or shine brighter, any unnecessary focus on her could see her and Bethany locked away if she wasn't careful. The Templars and Chantry were far more relaxed here in Redcliffe, allowing her and her sister to move about semi-freely. She had managed her entire life to not earn herself any attention her way.

Until now… Until this strange, alluring man seemed to set his sights on her… Only her!

Marian swallowed hard, and tried to concentrate instead on not dropping the empty tankards in her hands. Try as she might however, she couldn't pull her curious eye away from the handsome stranger, too enthralled by how his eyes seemed to echo the feverish flames of the roaring hearth he sat near. Absolutely bewitched was she, by the way that same blistering flame seemed to fan out across his golden skin, and flick at his wolfish grin in the exact way she pictured her tongue would.

"Get it together Marian." She muttered under her breath. "You act like you've never seen a man before." The truth was, in all of her seventeen years, she'd seen lots of men - pirates and militia mostly - come marching through Lloyd's tavern doors, with their soiled boots, yellowed teeth and ragged hair, but, she had _**never**_ laid eyes upon a man such as this one. Judging by his clothing alone, Marian would wager the entire sum of the sovereign stashed beneath her straw mattress, that this man was very well bred, a gentleman even. The fabric was imported, Antivan perhaps, or Orlesian even, expensive to say the least, and Maker, the old saying was dead on, you most definitely get what you pay for. How fine the elegant pieces looked draped over her enticing stranger, his black, leather riding pants hugged his muscled thighs in the most divine places, and his simple white tunic was tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, left open slightly at the collar, leaving the smallest slice of his smooth, sun kissed chest in perfect view of any who cared to glimpse it. _"Ohhh Maker! Pick me! I'll look!"_ A deviant little voice in Marian's head begged, it's phantom arms waving harder than the stubbed tail of an overly enthusiastic mabari pup.

"You can just put your eyes back into your foolish head Marian Hawke." Barked Edwina, as she pushed her way roughly past Marian to get her tankards filled by the barkeep first. "Them handsome fellas ain't bred for the likes of you."

After two years of serving tables next to Edwina, Marian knew two things, the first that pushing her way ahead of the older woman would do nothing but cause her a headache she didn't wish to suffer, and the second being, that she had waited too long to defend herself against Edwina's cruel tongue… The second was a pity; after all, the only vice Marian allowed herself to glory in was out foxing the old prig.

"A cat may look at a king Edwina." She sighed, "There is no sin in that last I checked." Her words, even to her own ears, were mediocre at best, a touch wistful even. The nervous shrug of her shoulders didn't help either, Edwina wasn't a woman who knew mercy, Marian wasn't even sure the old codger knew the meaning, surely she'd jump all over this show of weakness.

Squinting, with evil lacing her dark gaze, Edwina smirked wide at Marian, showing the gnarled, tobacco-stained teeth that lay inside her vile mouth.

"Oh kings you say miss priss," she scoffed. " Fat lot you know about em. Right royal rogues' is closer to the truth. Come here to take their sport from us common folk. Handsome as sin and twice as wicked. All the sovereigns in their pockets won't make them Vael's better than what they are."

_Not yet kings then, nay, but royalty just the same. _Marian pondered, her eyes wide, and her heart hammering her ribcage with such ferocious strikes she feared it might break through. The Vael's held Starkhaven's throne and the start of their reign was legendary, and so, naturally was their way of life. They lived in their fine mansions, with their beautiful ladies and rows of bloomed rose bushes and sweet apple trees that lined walkways of granite, twined with specks of twenty-four karat gold. _Fine wine. Fine clothes. Fine food. Fine women!_ "Ohhh, Maker!" Marian whispered absently, feeling her body sway a could she not have known who they were right away? She'd studied their family, nearly to the point that she could be accused of stalking. She'd seen portraits, listened to the whispers. Maker! Marian had taught herself to read, with books on Starkhaven and the Vaels… Nightly, beneath a blanket of stars, with her books hugged tight to her chest she'd imagine herself walking those walkways, biting into the sweetest, rose-red apple she'd ever tasted…

But reality… reality was cruelly ironic, because as she would savor the imaginary fruit and the visions of being a Lady Vael, her growling stomach and tattered clothing would often crush the fantasy, with merciless haste.

On a bitter sigh, Marian wrapped her arms defensively around her rail thin body. Knowing who he was now, she was no longer shocked that she'd never seen her handsome stranger in Lloyd's before. Unable to stop herself, Marian glanced over to the table closest to the hearth, stealing another look at the prince in her tavern, and nearly keeled over dead in horror. Apparently Marian had tried her luck one too many times, this time he caught her. He tilted his head back a fraction, just a fraction and smiled a slow lazy smile that curled her toes, her cheeks burned so hot she was certain she could light a candlewick on them. Oh, what a picture she presented him to be sure, standing doe-eyed with her mouth pumping open and shut like a fish out of water.

Edwina shoved her hard, forcing her to grasp at the empty tankards in her hands. " I told you to quit your gawking you silly heifer!" Yelping indignantly, Marian jumped away from the older woman, her ribs screaming in protest where the old prig's elbow had landed.

"Oww, Maker, Edwina, he was the one to stare at me first."

"You!" Edwina's cruel features twisted into disbelief. "You honestly believe one of them Vael's fancies a bony, skittish prig like you? The only man that ever looks your way, miss Priss, is ole' Lloyd himself." Immediately, Marian's eyes darted for the door where the tavern's owner sat on his perch, greeting the patrons as they shook off the cold and came in to drink. Lloyd was old; surely twice her own age, if his thinning auburn hair, and potbelly were any indication, and his hands were always damp, a fact, Marian, only knew, because the disgusting fool would "accidentally" brush them against her at least twice a night. "Oh yes, take a good look at him sweetheart. There's your admirer." Edwina laughed harshly, leaning in closer so that Marian wouldn't miss a word, relishing in her bitterness. "Even Lloyd only smiles your way 'cause you're so willing to work yourself to the bone."

"That's not true none of it," Marian cried. "And I swear to you, Serha Vael, has been watching me all night." In spite of Marian's bravado Edwina's poisoned barbs had managed to hit painfully close to the mark. Why would the old woman believe that the Starkhaven prince, with his fine way of life, had any interest in her when she, herself could scarcely believe it?

Edwina's watery, blue-grey eyes were sparkling with malicious triumph and the mischief behind them sparked brighter. "Then go prove it, ask him if he wants his glass filled. If he's been eyeing you all night, as you say then he will take any chance to have you up close. Go on little Hawke, show me."

" Oh, no Edwina. I couldn't." said Marian quickly, desperate to keep the alarm from her voice. "It wouldn't be right, they're your table. If they're Vael's as you say, they'll be tipping well. I'm sure you don't want to lose the extra sovereign."

"Go on," goaded Edwina, "keep bumbling your excuses. You afraid you'll cross ole' Lloyd? Unless you're scared? Or outright lying!" She hissed, narrowing her old eyes to slits.

At her words, something in Marian snapped, and with a force greater than she knew she was capable of she slammed her empty tankards down atop of the bar, whirling around so fast her head spun and stars flitted about her eyes. If she hesitated for even a second she'd lose the sudden courage, something she could not afford. Edwina had gotten the better of her all night, it was Marian's turn to shut the old hag up once and for all. Swiftly she threaded her way through the tables, chairs and crowds of merry drunkards. In an almost obsessive nervousness Marian smoothed her hands repeatedly over her apron, and as she did a small amount of electrical energy sparked from her fingers. She began giggling a little hysterically, looking around to see if anyone was charging the unfettered "abomination." Thankfully no one seemed to be rushing her with pitchforks blazing, in fact no one seemed to notice her at all. "Perhaps the Maker can be kind." She muttered. The last thing she needed was a Templar's boot treads engraved on her forehead. What a scene that would make; Starkhaven's finest would certainly find the entertainment they'd come for.

He watched her approach, his expression charming and demeanor calm. With easy grace he took a swig from his tankard, eyes never leaving what Marian knew was her blush-riddled face. Sharing none of his savoir-faire, she stopped before him with awkward abruptness, her heart renewing a harsh barrage against its bone prison. Her mouth was so dry she prayed she'd be able to speak, only to realize in sheer horror that her prayer hadn't been heeded, she was speechless, her brain fled and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Swallowing convulsively, Marian opened her mouth to try her words again, but nothing came! Not even a squeak of sound.

"Good day tae' ye' lass." He said, saving her from herself without even a hint of mockery. "Or good evenin' considerin' the hour."

"Whichever Your Majesty, desires." She finally managed to push out around the growing lump in her throat, a breathy, whispered sound nothing like her voice, but sound was good, no matter how foreign it was to her ears. "It is indeed night, but if it pleases you to call it day, then so it shall be day." She didn't think it possible to blush harder, but, after her nervous rambling she was certain every ounce of blood in her veins had taken up residence in her face, painting it a strawberry red to match her scarlet curls. Maker! Edwina was an evil woman. Still he didn't tease or ridicule her, he simply nodded his head that lazy smile still on his face, - and for her amusement only. –

"What an agreeable creature ye' are." He whispered softly to her. "Willin' night intae' day simply because ah' wish it."

"Yes, Your Majesty." She whispered back, finding it hard to focus on the conversation. His eyes were a deeper shade of turquoise than she had realized from across the room, under the sweep of his thick, coffee lashes the firelight seemed to dance around the gleaming orbs, like old lovers across a grand ballroom. _"Andraste's perky backside!"_ What a man, magnificent, chiseled out of the finest marble, by the most precise pair of hands. And Maker that accent! _Swoon!_

"_Marian, stop staring you dumb cow! Ask the man if he wants more ale before he wilts from thirst." _She mentally kicked herself, then finally found her voice once more. "Your Majesty, would you like more ale?" She asked, struggling to turn the tides back to her original goal. "Or is it something finer, Your Majesties are drinking this evening?"

"Yer' Majesty?!" Barked the man next to Marian's prince, if the same dancing orbs they shared were any indication, she'd guess them related. "Yer' _Bluidy' _Majesty, Andraste's tits Sebastian! Nary a wonder ye've been eyein' this wench all night."

Instinctively Marian stepped away from the bolder, much more drunk Vael. Her father had taught her long ago, to always keep an arms length between men who had drank too much, and herself. However backing away from one Vael, sent her closer to the one they were calling Sebastian. Before she could protest, or even notice really, he grabbed her hand, lightly tracing small circles from her palm, to the inside of her elbow and back again. The trail his fingers left felt electric, like she'd been shocked. She gulped heavily, squeezing her eyes shut; she'd done it this time, the electricity had to be a side effect of her twitchy nerves, there's no way he didn't feel it too, and soon he'd bring the Templars down on her. _Cursed magic_!

When he didn't immediately drop her hand, nor scream "abomination" at her, Marian cautioned a look, peeling her eyes open slowly to glimpse his beautiful face. To her great surprise and utter relief, the lazy smile was still in place, his eyes seemed to have darkened, a hunger behind them she didn't quite understand, but she found no hint he'd noticed the electricity and that was all that mattered.

He spoke then, eyes never leaving her face, his hand never halting its light caress on her skin. "She's merely statin', the immeasurable judgment O' mah' true worth brother. Which proves without question, why the lassies find me more favorable than either one O' ye'. Isn't that so pet? Refreshin' tae' meet a lass as wise as she is lovely."

Her brain told her she should pull her hand away, that it shouldn't be a difficult task, she'd had to do it a million times before, but her heart… the bastard traitor, disagreed, to it, there was no logical reason to pull away from this man's delicious, feather light caress. He, in mere moments, had disarmed her completely.

"Alas sweet child, I am nae' Yer Majesty, nor anyone else's fer' that matter. I am simply Sebastian Vael, O' Starkhaven. An' these two worthless rogues are my brothers." He said, pointing at the brash drunkard first "That ole' fool, is Gabriel," then nodded toward the silent man who had yet to acknowledge her existence. "An' that arrogant arse is Garrus."

With a slight nod and bow, Marian curtsied to both; unsure of how to act, the situation had quickly ran away from her. Him calling her lovely had confused her. She looked down at their entwined fingers, and watched, enthralled by his big calloused hands as they ran so gently over her red, abused little ones. She knew him calling her lovely was from the strong brew he was drinking. She was naïve to the world, but she had no false perceptions of herself, she was homely, nothing more, nothing less. Her curly hair was near untamable, and though she struggled all night to keep it in her cap, she was certain that by now it was sticking out in defiance, in spite of the effort. She was too thin, her eyes though a deep blue and could be considered pretty, held dark circles from sleepless nights. The short of it was, the life Marian suffered had aged her. She wasn't lovely and never would be… Still, there wasn't any harm in listening to a man this charming, handsome and gentle tell her such pretty nonsense, even if it was only for this moment.

"Ere' now Hawke, when you're done playing patty hands with prince charming, do you think you could do your job and get us our ale?" Demanded an irritated male voice behind her. There was nothing gentle about the hand that suddenly snaked around her waist, yanking her away from Sebastian and nearly off her feet.

Knight-Commander Harrith was a regular at Lloyd's, and with his status as head mage hunter in Redcliffe, Marian did everything in her power to please him. For his tankard to run empty was nothing less than her failure, to herself and Bethany. Harrith was a key player in their freedom, even if he was also the biggest "nug-humper" -as the dwarf Dwyn, had once called him- that she had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Harrith and the four Templars that drank with him this night roared with laughter, as she lost her footing, blindly grabbing for anything to balance herself, not wanting to land face first at the Knight-Commander's boots.

"Off with you, you little hussy, an' fetch our ale, before I decide you and your sister need to be looked into a little closer." Harrith stated, an arrogant smile playing on his lips. "We wouldn't want that would we?" he goaded, smacking her backside roughly, knowing the answer without the question ever needing to be asked.

"Oh n-no Knight-Commander, you needn't do that!" Marian stammered, a mixture of embarrassment and anger warring for rights; unshed tears coming dangerously close to the surface. Threatening her sure, but Bethany? Dear Andraste! Her sister still didn't… Couldn't grasp what it was she was doing wrong. "I'll fetch it right now, it was wrong to keep you waiting. I vow to the Maker, on my own life it will never happen again." Marian groveled; shame for her cowardliness worked her over good, like a high dragon would a lone warrior. She turned, tail solidly between her legs, running directly into the broad chest of Sebastian Vael. Damn her clumsiness! Surely Prince Vael wouldn't be pleased with her face-planting his fine shirt! _More groveling then?_

"Your Majesty, p-p-please forgive me, I didn't know, I didn't mean to-"

"Hush now lass," he smiled gently, helping her right herself. "Mightier foes than ye' have tried an' failed tae' do me in, an' what did Ah' say about being Yer' Majesty." He chuckled deeply, a brassy vibration that reverberated through Marian's palms, still resting on his chest, down to her core and spreading outwards like a wild fire, it's heat warming her all over. She nodded mutely. Noting how the pressure of his palms holding her upper arms, was as oddly unsettling as his fingers had been.

"Listen you little wench! It wasn't a jest when I said my men and I wanted our ale. If you're a wise wench you'll go and get it, _NOW_ do you hear me?" Harrith snarled a breath away from her ear, but still loud enough for all in the tavern to hear the power he wielded over her. She felt Sebastian tense slightly. He raised his head to look at Harrith, the sweet smile still on his face.

" The lass," he nodded pointedly down at Marian. "Does nae' wish tae' hear yer' insults, anymore than ye' deserve her attentions."

In an instant the tavern fell silent, she was sure if a pin dropped all of Redcliffe would be able to hear it. Every pair of ears in attendance strained to hear what their beloved Knight-Commander would say. What he would do about this outsider's insubordination.

Never one to disappoint such adoring fans, Harrith shoved his chair back so hard it slammed to the ground, a deafening sound in the too quiet tavern. He stood facing Sebastian, the slight buzz he had going all but forgotten, his mask of superiority and authority locked into place.

"Now you listen here! Marian Hawke ain't no lady, she's a two-bit serving wench who gets paid to do as I bid. If she's forgotten that, I'm sure there's a place in the circle for her, mage abominations are always welcome!" Harrith glared at her, then focused his attentions back on the too calm Vael. "As for you Serha! I suggest you keep your fine nose out of my business, before you find it broken."

"Do ye' now?" asked Sebastian, with an air of mildness that was fooling nobody. "Here Ah' was goin' tae' offer ye' the same advice."

With both hands Marian strangled her apron, anxiously glimpsing between the lions before her. Physically they were matched, both tall as oaks and nearly as broad, but Sebastian, in his fine clothing, was a gentleman. If it came to blows, Harrith had him out matched, she'd bet her precious wage on it. The Knight-Commander came to Lloyd's specifically to brawl. Nearly every eve his short fuse would blow, and some poor sod would end up impaled on the hidden blade he kept beneath his sleeve. Sebastian would be no exception, if he were lucky he'd only be injured and if not, well, then, he'd be dead.

In her scrutiny of the men before her, Marian hadn't noticed the two older Vael's had moved from their seats until they were standing directly behind Sebastian, their own drunken merriness forgotten, their hands clenched into tight fists at their sides. Nor had she noticed that the tables around them seemed to empty with lightening speed, men and women clambering to get to safer ground. Marian envied them. Right now she'd like to be behind the bar, eyes closed, praying to the Maker she was in the fade. She'd wake up on the floor of her small quarters with Carver laughing at her for falling out of bed again.

Except this was no dream. She'd not be waking on the floor. She had to do something, ANYTHING! "You mustn't do this Your Majesty!" Marian pleaded, raising herself on tiptoes in an attempt to appeal to Sebastian better. "The Knight-Commander is right, I'm just a serving lass, and I'm not worth this!"

"Hiding behind an abomination's, filthy robes now? _YOUR MAJESTY." _Harrith taunted, mimicking Marian. "Fraid' you'll soil yourself are you? _YOUR MAJESTY." _Sebastian's pleasant smile vanished as if it had never been. His dark brows came together in a single line.

"Mind yerself' pet." He said, gently grasping Marian's wrists from his chest and sweeping her to the side and out of the line of fire. "This will only take a minute, ah' promise." His smile returned, boyish almost, and for her alone.

"Sir Vael, please. Serah!" Marian pleaded for him to see sense.

"It's Sebastian lass, just Sebastian no formalities needed between us." He chided lightly.

"Nae' now, an' certainly nae' later."

"Sebastian is it?" Harrith interrupted, bouncing from one foot to the other, his anticipation palpable. "Aye, Sebastian. A right manly name your mum gave ya boy!"

This was definitely going from bad to worse. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lloyd get off his stool, his potbelly jiggling, his round, red face twisted in distress. The last time Harrith and his men had a full out brawl in the tavern, the cost to fix and replace everything almost shut him down. If Starkhaven's royalty were mangled in a bar brawl by Redcliffe's Templars, Lloyd would be shutdown, end of story. No amounts of coin would save the small tavern. Someone would have to pay for the travesty upon royalty; it wouldn't be Knight-Commander Harrith, or his Templars, the Chantry would denounce Andraste herself first before they allowed one of their own to face punishment for his crimes.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen please!" Lloyd pleaded his arms outstretched, the palms of his hands held open in both Harrith's and Sebastian's directions. "There must be a better way to solve this little disagreement, is there not?" Sebastian glanced in Lloyd's direction for a split second giving Harrith the perfect opening to strike, he moved so quick it was a blur to Marian, but Sebastian was quicker, with the grace of a Rivaini jungle cat, he dodged away from Harrith, nailing the Commander in the gut and doubling the big man over. Sebastian stood his ground. His legs spread apart, arms crossed over his broad chest, not a single lock of lush hair out of place. And that was the cue for all hell to break loose. With a roar of anger one of Harrith's men lashed out with a wooden chair aimed at Sebastian's head, Sebastian twisted out of the way. In the same moment one of the Vael's, Gabriel she thought his name was, lunged for the man with the chair. Amid the splintering wood the three men toppled, flailing arms and legs knocking over a table, sending tankards and bottles crashing to the floor along with their bodies. Angry curses could be keened from the piled mass of bodies.

"Hawke over here, quick now!" Edwina yelled over the noise. Shoving a stunned Marian over the bar, quickly following suit, grabbing a bottle of the taverns finest Dwarven ale and taking a deep swig as she planted herself beside Marian.

"They'll kill them Edwina! Harrith and his men will kill those gentlemen, I just know it." Marian cried. Fear for the Vaels lay heavy in her heart. This was her fault, all her fault.

"Nay they won't you silly priss not by half. Royalty or common-bred, most men are like wild dogs in the street when it comes to a good scrap." Edwina laughed merrily, as she swigged deeply from the bottle of commandeered ale.

"Edwina they're-" Marian started.

"NO! They ain't. I told you them Vael's came in here tonight for a bit of sport and by the Maker they found it in Harrith and his men."

Unconvinced. Hawke tried hard not to imagine what was happening to Sebastian's beautiful face, she'd seen too many bar brawls not to.

Edwina cackled loudly, poking Hawke in the ribs.

"By the Black Divine, what were you about setting that man off like that?"

"I did no such thing!" Marian said indignantly, shielding her face as a stray bottle hit the wall in front of them, showering splintered glass atop of their heads. "I only went over there because you dared me to! You saw how it was!" Marian defended.

"Aye I did see, I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. Ms. Priss teasin' them Vael's into taking on Templars." Edwina shook her head taking another long swig of ale. Frowning, the old woman cocked her head to the door. "Here come the city guard, that'll put to end the sport for tonight, and leave us to tidy the mess." She scowled, taking one last gulp of the fine ale. As warning shouts and scurrying sounds mingled both parties making for the exits, Marian chanced a look, searching for Sebastian to see how he fared.

"That handsome Vael will be long gone Ms. Priss. No point in searching for a ghost." Edwina said softly, a hint of what seemed like sadness in her normally venomous tone. The older woman was right, the Tavern was empty, nothing but tipped tables, splintered chairs and broken bottles remained. Lloyd stood in the center of it all head bowed, but Sebastian Vael was gone. Marian felt her heart sink.

Marian leaned on the bar, far beyond tired. Cleaning the disaster hadn't been the most entertaining time of her life, but it kept her mind off the man that in mere hours left her head spinning.

"Here comes Ol'Lloyd and he sure don't look pleased." Said Edwina, stepping closer to Marian "I don't want tae' be fretting you priss, but I'm certain that scowl is aimed your way!" Edwina stepped back slightly, leaned against the bar and waited for Lloyd to make it to them. She was right once more, the old tavern keep looked like Marian had when Carver cut her waist length hair, while she slept. Closing her eyes and breathing deep Marian revisited that morning, trying to calm her wrecked nerves.

"_Mari! Wake up! Mariiii! Wake up, wake up! Look what I've done!"_

"_Go away Carver." Marian mumbled sleepily, "Remember what I told you?"_

"_To never wake you up unless the house is on fire." Carver recited. Marian could almost feel him rolling his eyes at her._

"_And is the house on fire, Carver?" _

"_No, but—" _

"_Are Templars attacking?"_

"_Father wouldn't allow—"_

"_Have demons swallowed the ground beneath us? Is the sky raining down iced cream and chocolate?_

"_Can that actually happen, Mari?!"_

_Carver's innocence and excitement at her words made Marian giggle, her ire at being woken nearly gone. "What is it you have to show me Carver?" Marian relented, knowing her dear brother would never go away until she did_

"_Your hair, sister." Carver giggled, devilishly. "I've got your hair!" Immediately Marian's hand shot up to where the beginning of a waist length braid once sat, only to be met with the jagged edges of a newly sheared bob._

"_I'm going to kill you, you little shit!" Marian screeched, flying from her bed toppeling Carver to the ground, a fireball blazing in one hand, his throat clutched tight in the other. _

"_I'm gonna tell father!" Carver wheezed, his eyes wide. "You cursed, and magic isn't allowed, he's gonna whip you good!"_

"_You won't be able to tell father anything if you're dead!"_

"_Marian Renee Hawke." Malcolm Hawke chided from their doorway. His stern voice startled both Hawke children. The fireball in Marian's hand dissipated as she jumped from her brother to stand innocently before her father. "Threatening murder my dear is a serious business, you must first be absolutely certain you'd be capable of following through if the need to arose. Otherwise your word would mean nothing. Never threaten things child, instead promise them, and be sure you mean to follow through on that promise."_

"_But Papa! Look what Carver's done to my hair!"_

"_Marian cursed father! And you saw, she was using magic. I told her you'd whip her good."_

"_Children." Malcolm chastised, then fell into a silent contemplation._

_Marian waited for her father to react, uncertain, what if he was disappointed with her? Malcolm Hawke had never laid hands on his children, his disappointment was always much worse than any beating. With minutes passing quicker than lightening strikes, she couldn't help but become anxious by her father's silence. "Papa, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking—"_

"_Carver your sister's hair is a masterpiece. A barber, instead of a warrior could very well be in your future. And Marian, that fire spell…" Malcolm paused his interruption of her apology, as he helped Carver up from where he still sat on the floor. "That fireball was perfect! Beautiful… Just try not to direct it at your brother, even if he deserves it." With a chuckle Malcolm scooped both his children up. "Now, I heard someone speaking of iced cream falling from the sky, did I not? Your mother has taken Bethany to the market, and though I can't make it fall from the sky I can certainly make it for breakfast, as long as you kids can keep it between us, eh?" In unison Marian and Carver squealed excitedly, wriggling from Malcolm and fleeing toward the kitchen hand in hand together._

Marian hadn't realized it then, but her father had been a clever man, teaching his children and bonding them closer together at the same time. They had left their room happily together that morning, when just minutes prior they couldn't stand each other. "I see what you did there old man." Marian murmured. The memory easing her tension slightly, her mouth turning up into a smile on it's own accord.

"I'm glad you find this amusing." Lloyd's furious face appeared in front of her. His cheeks cherry red and lips thinned into non-existence, making the man more unattractive.

"I wasn't. It's not funny. I was -."

"Just stop!" Lloyd barked. "Everyone go home. I don't want to see any of your wretched faces till tomorrow eve." The staff headed for the doors in a rush, before he changed his mind. Marian turned on her heel taking the opportunity to leave as well. "Oh no Marian Hawke, you stay, I've words to say to you."

"It was never my intention to cause trouble sir." She stopped, not having anything more to say, it wouldn't matter anyways.

"For Maker sake girl, have you no wits?" Lloyd breathed slamming his hand on the bar. "These shambles are the least of my troubles this night, I thought you and I had an understanding." She looked at him confused, she couldn't recall reaching a mutual understanding with the old tavern keep.

"An understanding, sir?" she asked cocking her head to the side, as if it would shed light on the nonsense the old man spoke.

"Don't play like we didn't! Before this, I believed with your interest in this trade and your willingness to work. You'd be equally willing to share the profits and bask in the toil."

"I don't follow you sir." But she did, all to well. Edwina was right the only role for plain Marian Hawke was apparently underneath wrinkly, old Lloyd's potbelly.

"I can't make it any clearer to you Marian. I have big plans for this place, but a great tavern needs a woman's touch, to help it grow, to make it great. I believed your hands capable of that. The wife of a tavern owner needs to be sober and strong. Not floated around like a whore looking for her next meal ticket. I thought that was you. After tonight I'm not so sure."

She'd known it, but the blow he dealt her was a hard one to take.

"Sir, I don't recall you ever asking for me, anymore than I've agreed to accept you."

"I did not believe such idle words were needed between us." Lloyd said impatiently drumming his fingers on the bar. "Be honest with yourself Marian what better offer are you going to get."

Tears of frustration stung her eyes, if she were honest with herself, like Lloyd asked; his offer was quite a good one. A chance to improve her station far beyond an orphaned mage, with siblings to take care of could have imagined. Had Lloyd come to her with this "understanding" yesterday, or even this afternoon she would have accepted, it would have been enough. But that was before she met Sebastian Vael, before he whispered his sweet praise. Empty or not, she wanted to hear those sultry words whispered to her in his deep brogue again.

With nothing to say, no answer she was willing to speak, she fled through the taproom, into the kitchen and out to the yard. She didn't stop running until she reached the cold bricks of the well that supplied the tavern. She breathed deep trying to compose herself unwilling to shed a single tear, this night was bad, no mistake, but crying wouldn't help that.

"Did they blame ye' fer' that brawl pet?" asked Sebastian softly. "Twas hardly yer' fault, we Vael men view such scraps as entertainment."

Startled by his sudden manifestation, Marian let loose a crackle of lightening, much to her dismay. Though Sebastian simply weaved out of the way, holding up his hands in surrender. She couldn't see his face; he stood in the shadows his fine shirt ripped on one side, from shoulder to sleeve.

"Your Majesty?" She self-consciously patted down her clothing, wiping her eyes to be sure no stray tears had disobeyed her. "Dear Maker, look at you! Are you hurt? I could take you into the kitchen-."

"Nay' lass, with mah' hands raised tae' the heavens, Ah' vow I am none the worse fer' wear." He stepped into the moonlight to show he had no hideous abrasions or blackened eyes. " An' fer' the last time lass, it's Sebastian."

"Aye then, Sebastian." She smiled. Completely taking in his ripped clothing she frowned and clucked her tongue. "Look what's become of your beautiful clothes!"

"Ha! Old rags, nae' tae' be missed." He stared at her thoughtfully "Ah' was afraid ye' wouldnae' come pet."

She felt herself flush, thankful for the shadows she hoped hid her pleasure. He had comeback, Edwina had been wrong. "Why did you take my side against the Knight-Commander?" She asked quietly.

"What, because ye're a serving lass? Or because ye're a mage?" He sighed, coming around the well to join her. "That, ye' must blame on mah' grandpappy's teachin'. Ah' fear his chivalrous inclinations carried over tae' me.

"But why?" she asked again, hoping that another question wouldn't displease him. "Why me?"

"Because Ah' wished it pet, because yer' young an' fresh with marvelous solemn eyes, that shine like polished sapphire." He was watching her intently, studying her like an artist would his most prized painting. "Ye' colour most charmingly also, especially under moonlight." His words were intoxicating. If they were hollow it didn't matter they washed over her just the same.

"I'm not pretty, it's nice of you to say so of course and I'd be lying if I said I didn't like your flattery." She paused looking for what to say next "I have no foolish thoughts about myself. You say my eyes shine, but I know their only dull blue, my hair is treacherous and unruly on a good day, my face is too round, I know I'm plain everyone tells me so."

"Then everyone else can go tae' the Black Divine!" Gently, easily he drew her close, resting her arms around his waist. "Someday ye'll' be more beautiful then all o' them put together."

"But I-"

"Hush now, an' listen tae' me." He cradled her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs along her cheeks. "The loveliest flowers often take the longest tae' bloom, Ah' see great beauty in this charming little face, do nate' dare let anyone tell ye' otherwise.

For a moment she allowed them to stay that way her arms around his waist, his fingers gently exploring her face, softly sweeping across her lips basking in the words he spoke to her, before she forced herself to break away

"We can't stay here someone could see from the tavern, or the guards could comeback." She grabbed his hand shyly "Come this way to the stable. My family used to live in Lothering we owned a little farm, I've never found another place that felt more like home than that farm." She said smiling, pulling him along behind her. "Master Thomas, the stable hand, understands and allows me to come and go as I please."

Carefully she unfastened the latch not wanting to startle the horses, she slipped inside only pausing for Sebastian to follow her up the ladder to the loft. Her feet slipped into the mounded hay, it's musky fragrance reminding her of summer. She knelt beside the narrow window and looked out at the harbor and the ships at the moorings.

"When all the sails are furled like that, I think the masts look like a forest." She said wistfully "a whole magic, silvery forest on the water."

She heard the hay rustle as he came to sit next to her " How ole' are ye' pet?"

"Seventeen." She answered honestly hoping he wouldn't think her a child. "I've been on my own in Redcliffe for two summers now, taking care of my sister and brother.

"Hmm, that puts five years between us, Ah' wonder if Ah' was ever as young as ye'?"

"Of course you were." She turned smiling "five years ago."

"O' course." He trailed off lightly tugging at her cap releasing her unruly red curls to sweep around her face.

"In the morning I'll be sailin' back tae' Starkhaven on one o' those ships. After years o' living as Ah' wish, mah' grandpappy has decided it's time fer' me tae' stand fer' something. Ah' will be given over tae' the chantry, tae' become a soldier in the Divine's holy army."

"Starkhaven!" said Marian unhappily; he might as well of said the moon. "When will you come back?"

"That only the Maker an' his mercy can decide. A year maybe, or ten. Perhaps never. A soldiers life is never fer' sure."

He spoke with such brave sadness she instinctively put her arms around him. Offering him comfort and peace from the storm that seemed to brew in his turquoise eyes. "You'll comeback Sebastian I know it." She said fiercely, head pressed to his exposed torso, his skin so smooth she couldn't help but rub her cheek over it like a cat snuggling up to it's master's leg. He sighed letting his hands settle around her waist

"A good soldiers life is nae' his own pet, an' he never knows when it'll be forfeit."

"That's so sad." She cried pushing herself back so she could search his face. She had meant to comfort him with all the sadness he spoke, but instead she was the one who felt safe here, warm in the haven of his arms. "How can you bear the thought of sailing off into the unknown as you plan to?" With infinite care he slowly traced the bow of her upper lip.

"Ye' can help mah' bear it, sweet." He rasped, his rough brogue thick. "Give me a memory tae' take with me'." He kissed her then, as lightly as his touch had been, a feather light brush of his lips to hers until she parted willingly. If he wished to take the memory of her kiss with him into battle, then she'd give it gladly. How could she deny him with his future so uncertain? She was disappointed to taste the strong ale he had been drinking on his lips. Surely with the liquor influencing him he wouldn't enjoy this moment as deeply as she would. He deepened the kiss, his mouth sure and warm. The ale was forgotten, the heady new sensations took over her ability to think, until just he and she remained. So enthralled by his passion, Marian barely perceived him lowering her back into the hay. Masterfully his lush lips slipped across the curve of her jaw and down to her neck, gently, nibbling an electrified path to the hollow juncture at the base of her throat. Carefully he loosened the buttons of her blouse, parting the fabric and pulling her breast band down, exposing sensitive pink peaks to the cool air, his tongue swirled hotly around one, then the other, sucking each nubby pearl into the cavernous depths of his skilled mouth, releasing them only to blow a cool breath, forcing them to stand mercilessly at attention. She moaned a breathy moan so foreign to her ears, hands instinctively going to his head, combing through his soft, sorrel locks, need and reality jockeying for position. She felt on fire under his attentions, not noticing her robes hiked up around her waist until his hand gently feathered across her core jolting her up and away from him.

Clumsily she tried to wrestle her robes down. "You-you must not!" she breathed out huskily " No, Sebastian please!"

"Yes sweet lass, yes." He breathed lightly grabbing her ankle sliding her toward him meeting her mouth with his "I told ye', I am a chivalrous man, an' I intend tae' prove it. Ye' will have yer' pleasure from me, be sure of that." His lips met hers once more, retracing the route he'd already mapped out. Marian gasped her protests forgotten. He suckled her breasts gently, moving his calloused hand back up the softness of her thighs to her apex, softly swirling his thumb over a most sensitive area she never knew existed.

"Yer' so wet lass." He purred into her ear. She hadn't a clue what he meant, nor did she have the experience to warn her what would come next. So lost in the most delicious feeling of heat flooding her body. He kissed and stroked her till she arched wantonly into his touch. Another moment her ravished senses pleaded with her conscience, just a few more precious moments. Then she'd ask him to stop. The pleasure spiraled dizzily upward her conscience fell silent. Lost in her own world she didn't try to stop him as he shifted on top of her. He was a gentlemen her Sebastian. She'd trust him not to hurt her.

She _would_ trust him…

And then came the sharp-sudden hurt that ended the trust and the pleasure with it, and the helpless little cry that tore from her heart as she realized what he'd done, what she'd done and what could never be undone.

Afterward he smiled down upon her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand calling her his sweetest pet, trying to coax a smile out of her. She didn't smile however nor did she weep. Not even when he heard the drunken bellow from the streets and with an oath rolled off of her to one side. All she did was close her eyes so she didn't have to see the shame of his nakedness.

"Damn Gabriel!" Sebastian cursed as he hurriedly laced his breeches and bent to peer out of the window to the street below. "He'll bring the whole bluidy guard back here again!" He turned back to her shaking his hair out of his face, pinning her with his brilliant eyes. He spoke quickly as he stuffed his shirttails back into his breeches.

"Ah' must go now pet, Ah' must finish packin' an' such for the trip back, besides, Ah' do believe it high time that Ah' stop my rake o' a brother from bayin' at the moon like a jackass!"

She'd sat up by then righting her robes, holding them tightly around her ankles. She couldn't understand why there wasn't any blood? Why there was no proof of her maidenhead being taken this night? Perhaps it was a sign of her wickedness and sin.

He fumbled around in his pocket, his fingers jingling sovereigns together; He held them out to her as he bent to kiss her farewell.

"Go." She said turning her head to the side to avoid his lips. Now she was only a fool but if she took his coin she'd be something far worse. "Just go."

Without another word he left.

She listened as the ladder creaked under his weight, to the latch of the door as he opened and closed it. One of the horses nickered sleepily at the interruption, and then all was silent. No matter how much she curled into herself she couldn't shake the empty, hollow feeling.

It was bad enough she'd lost her maidenhead, here, in the hay, like a common whore, to a man that hadn't even bothered to learn her name. Worse still, when Sebastian Vael took the innocence of her body he also took the innocence of her heart and her future with it.

That she would never be able to forgive, or forget.


	2. Chapter 2

The Rogue's Conquest

Chapter Two

_Eleven Years Later_

_Free Kirkwall _

_9:41 Dragon Age _

In the quickly ebbing rays of post-dawn, the Market Square should've been ablaze with merchants hawking their wares, housewives giggling over the newest gossip, children chasing each other through the snowy streets, while frazzled adults screamed for them to "_SLOW DOWN_" to no avail. Instead there was nothing. No town crier, nor a city guardsman in sight. The place was a ghost town. Windows and doors on both houses and shops were shuttered tight, the newly built, Chantry bells hadn't even tolled the time. Only the wailing crows over the dead Market Square, and warm sun were left to prove it was day and not night.

Knight-Commander Sebastian Vael, of the Divines Royal Elite Army, scanned the houses and shops restlessly, sensing the hostility with in. How many bows, daggers and apostates were hiding there too? Preparing to offer the only welcome he and his men could expect from rebels. His army hadn't exactly made the subtlest of entries into the city. Justinia's Elite; had ridden through Kirkwall, a fine sight to behold, dressed head to toe in white Dragonbone, with solid gold encrusted into the trim of the sleek armor. Their helms of the same bone white proudly sat atop their heads with outstretched, golden horns on either side, shining like blinding beacons in the sun. It wasn't standard Templar skirts, but Sebastian's order wasn't an average Templar order. They took their lead directly from the Divine herself, and were only dispatched when things went terribly wrong… And so, here they sat, in Kirkwall, where things had most definitely gone terribly wrong… Actually, things could have only gone worse if the Waking Sea rose up to smite Kirkwall. The Chantry? Gone. Blown to smithereens by rebel mages, and their sympathizers, and rebuilt by non-believers no less, a mockery, no doubt. The Knight-Commander? Dead. The Grand Cleric? Also dead. The city had even been declared free from all Chantry law, the circle abolished. A young Tevinter in the making.

"Absolutely outrageous!" Sebastian scowled, a puff of icy smoke escaping his lips. The city would turn into a corrupt cesspool if it hadn't already. It should be burnt to the ground with its rebels for the crimes and outright murders that had taken place here._ "Oh Elthina." _Sebastian mourned inwardly. Sweet, Lady Elthina, the Grand-Cleric of Kirkwall and above that, his beloved surrogate mother. She'd given him direction, in place of his wayward inclinations, peace, where devious fires had once burned and most of all she had given him hope, that one day he'd step from the shadows of his brothers.

"_Please, Elthina, leave Kirkwall, come to Orlais, where you'll be safe!"_ Sebastian had written in his last missive to her, a desperate plea for her to see sense, had known it would only be a matter of time before things heated to boiling.

" _Calm yourself Sebastian. A good Supreme Mother always stays with her flock. Especially in times of great turmoil. You must have faith, my son. Don't fear for me. A Champion has arisen, like a phoenix from the ash. Kirkwall will be safe, under our Champion's watchful eye." _Was all he'd received in return, mere days before the city imploded on itself.

Elthina's trust in this "Champion" had clearly been misguided, immediately after the death, destruction and confusion, like a slithering serpent the "Champion" and self-appointed Viscount, sided with the mages, dissolved the circle, ousted Templar influence, then proclaimed every man, woman and child born in Kirkwall, free. This Champion was the reason Sebastian and his order were here now. It was about time too. Only a week ago; a full year after the city had been left in the Champion's hands, he, along with Knight-Vigilant Cullen and his fellow Knight-Commanders had been asked to join Divine Justinia V, to discuss meeting hadn't gone as expected however. Oh, indeed the Divine had decided to put Templar influence back into Kirkwall, but refused Holy War!

" _The Champion is influential my Knights, small rebellions have begun to pop up around all of the Free Marches, because of his influence, more are sure to follow. These people, mages and sympathizers alike love him. I don't need to tell you that mages outnumber us three to one, if they rise up war will ensue, a war that we can't win. Our order can't afford another Tevinter; we have to put this rebellion down quietly. Make the Viscount believe it's his idea. Go under the banner of friendship and peace. Show him the price that his people could pay_. _Catch the bees in their hive, with their honey, not our vinegar. And when they finally see sense, make their Champion disappear… Quietly_"

Those were the orders, come to the city under the guise of peace and strike like thieves in the night. Not ethical in the least. What war was ever fought ethically though?

The Supreme Mother wasn't wrong; this Viscount was an influential leader, with many followers, and stories in abundance about his competence as a legendary warmonger. Rumors had even been spoken in hushed tones through Orlais, (as if speaking his very name would bring his wrath) that The Champion managed to kill a Qunari Arishok in a duel, saving all of Kirkwall from Qunari indoctrination. Impressive, most impressive.

Under different circumstances, Sebastian could even admit an admiration and willingness to shake the man's hand. These weren't different circumstances though, and war was imminent. He was here, under a false banner of peace, to take the Champion's head, not shake the rebel king's hand.

Did the silver fox know? Sebastian wondered. A great leader such as this Champion had to know the Divine would want her city and circle restored. Were his kind offerings of food, drink and warm quarters as false as the Divine's offerings of peace?

Sebastian tightened his gloved hands around his stallions' reins, the thought of warm quarters reminding him of his painfully, chilled fingers. Like all of the Elite soldiers, he too had been soaked to the skin. A freezing ice storm had pelted them as soon as they had landed on the Wounded Coast. Two nights spent camping on windswept hillsides had left every old wound, ever suffered aching. He'd be thirty-three his next name day and this newest mission, to put down the mage rebels, already had him feeling every one of those years. As if the Maker heard his thoughts and decided to mock him, the youngest Knight-Corporal rode up beside him. "Knight-Commander…Sir." He stuttered nervously looking at the crumpled paper in his hand. "Knight-Vigilant Cullen sends his regards. He also says that you'll be quartered in a Hightown Tavern called The Rose. It's just a few -."

Sebastian held up a gloved hand, silencing him. "I know were it is, but the missive must be wrong. The Blooming Rose is a brothel, not a tavern." Irritation bubbled, all Sebastian wanted was a place to bathe and sleep, whose incompetence was to blame for this?

" I assure you Serha." The young man's voice pitched higher. Maker he'd barely just become a man! "The Knight-Vigilant said, I was to take you to your quarters directly. Your baggage is already there. Once you've settled and bathed, he wants you to report to him." Sebastian glared at the younger man for a brief moment, then steered his horse away from his men. He'd much prefer making sure their needs were seen to first, but being under Cullen's thumb this mission carried a whole different set of rules and responsibilities than what he was use to. He was in command of his regiment, but on this assignment he wasn't in charge. He too had orders to follow and lines he could not cross. If Cullen wanted him to report to a brothel now, he really had no choice but to obey.

They arrived at the brothel in silence. Already Elite Centurions were posted on either side of the heavy, violet stained door, the Divine's banners hoisted proudly above them, letting it be known that a Templar regiment would be residing within. Sebastian wondered how many citizens of Kirkwall would be crossing that threshold while he and his men were here, he'd bet only a handful.

Pausing before the Blooming Rose, Sebastian, was mildly impressed by the revival of the old building he had once wasted so much of his youth in. The paint had been stripped from chipped, dirty red, to a simple, but delicate white, lush, violet shutters now adorned each window, with garden beds below, not yet in bloom. Magenta and gold paper lanterns were hung, the ambient flame mimicked the dancing of fire, but weren't hot. An illusion made from magic Sebastian had to assume.

As if beckoned, Sebastian's attention darted from the eerie glow of the lanterns, toward the huge balcony above. There, standing in the shadows, behind thick, pane glass doors, Sebastian could make out the figure of a woman, and though he couldn't see her, he knew, without doubt that their eyes were locked, sending rippling sensations through his body. Unease? Or something else entirely, he pondered, his eyes not leaving hers.

"Knight-Commander?" The young Corporal asked hesitantly, briefly distracting Sebastian from the odd staring contest. "Shall we go in?" Sebastian's eyes flickered to the balcony once more, but the mysterious being was gone, quick, as if she'd never been.

"_Perhaps she hadn't been old boy. Sleep depravation, and ice storms have slued the minds of better men than you." _

"Yes, lets."

To Sebastian's surprise no one came to greet them when they entered the foyer. No matter what their political beliefs, it was bad business to leave guests waiting. Unhooking his cloak he moved further into the lounge area, were a giant hearth sat, its warmth calling to him like a siren's call. He removed his gloves quickly, warming his hands over the flames. Sebastian looked around taking in his surroundings. The furnishings were elegant enough to be part of a private parlor: mahogany chairs cushioned in white satin. Tavern tables polished in brass. Deep, purple silk lined the walls from floor. to ceiling like a luxurious indoor tent. From the kitchen drifted the aroma of roasting, seasoned chicken, tempting enough to make Sebastian's mouth water in anticipation. The Blooming Rose couldn't be an ordinary brothel, he thought with approval: lodging here would be infinitely more comfortable than water soaked tents on The Wounded Coast.

The memory alone was enough to make him lean in closer to the roaring hearth, letting the heat soak through his sore body. "Have you met this host of ours, Corporal?" he asked a bit impatiently. "He's been so late in his greetings, I'm beginning to suspect he doesn't exist!"

"He doesn't." Said a woman behind him, voice sharp with hostility. "My husband has been dead for many years. The Rose is my tavern and what a truly sad day it is, that she'll have to accommodate Templars, instead of the good people of this city."

"Then perhaps ma'am." Sebastian began "You should talk to your Viscount, about reinstating the Templar order in Kirkwall. If there wasn't an entire city of rebel mages running free, the Divine wouldn't have had need to send her army. Your brothel would be right back to being filled with drunks and whores." Before he turned to face her, Sebastian drew himself up to his full height, determined to let this woman feel the full impact of the Templar armor he bore. In his leather-riding boots, with the silver spurs, he stood well over 6 foot, and was confident he cut a far more imposing figure than anything this woman had ever seen. The golden face of Andraste on his belt buckle, emphasizing his status as Knight-Commander, and not just some wastrel of a patron she'd be used to addressing. "Your servant, ma'am." Sebastian turned fully, unleashing upon her his greatest weapon, a single charming smile, that constantly kept him out of trouble and favored by people, especially women…

"My servant, or my oppressor?" But not this woman, if her venomous tone was to be any judge. "You must be one or the other for you can't possibly be both."

"Mrs. Hawke!" said his Knight-Corporal hastily. "May I introduce Knight-Commander Sebastian Vael, of The Divines Royal Elite Army. Knight-Commander Vael, Mistress Marian Hawke, the proprietress of this establishment."

Sebastian smiled again, bowing slightly in acknowledgement, while she in turn did nothing. _"Blast her audacity,"_ he thought irritably, not only was it disrespectful to the order he served, but a lash to his ego as well. Mistress Hawke was a stunning lady, and stunning ladies seldom scorned him like this.

She looked young, perhaps mid to late twenties. Much too young to be married and widowed already, and he was certain she was too young to be running such a huge brothel alone. Her long fiery hair was drawn over her left shoulder, pinned loosely with a beautiful, golden butterfly clip, fitted with small emeralds in the wings, and was left to flutter in waves, upon waves of soft curls, over her left breast. Her eyes were a solemn blue, that seemed to be at odds with a mouth, that he suspected, could blossom into a ripe lush temptation under more desirable circumstances. She wore an emerald and gold robe that left little to the imagination. It clung to every curve like a second skin, the front dipping open in a V all the way to her belly button. At the apex of the V a golden chain seemed to hold the whole ensemble together. Though nearly naked, Mrs. Hawke still managed to hold an air of elegance and more ego than even Sebastian could muster. She was a woman that was to be respected and he guessed, she'd accept no less. He glanced over her once more, taking a passing note of the small, golden heart-shaped locket hanging around her neck.

"Ahem" She interjected, into his appraisal of her person. "You will forgive me, Knight-Commander, if I've left you too long to enjoy this fine fire and my gorgeous lounge," her sarcasm impossible to overlook "I am a bit short handed you see. A number of my people fled when they heard you and your brethren had come to save us from ourselves." She fluttered her small hand to her forehead dramatically, sneering at him.

He sat watching her for a moment trying to control his temper. He knew she was baiting him, but the knowledge didn't make it any easier to bear. "Perhaps you should be grateful the Divine has been merciful, that our arrival has been so peaceful and that none or your people have been wounded or killed.

She arched one shapely eyebrow, dropping her hand and cocking her head to the side studying him with a narrowed gaze.

"Grateful? Oh I'd be a good deal more grateful if I didn't have to house, and feed you and your men. I'm told that in my attic alone there are two-dozen soldiers sleeping on mats."

"You'll be receiving a more than generous stipend for the accommodations ma'am." Said the Knight-Corporal. "I thought I had explained that well enough before!"

But Sebastian doubted she'd even heard the young man, her gaze was fixed on him.

"What of my staff Knight-Commander? They are used to attending to men and women of the better sort. Not rough soldiers."

"May I remind you Mistress Hawke? This fine establishment is still only a brothel. The men and women you have working here, I'm sure have dealt with-." As quick as a cat she snapped her hand up in his face, electrical sparks crackling about her fingertips, her quick show of aggression instantly quieting him.

"This establishment, Serha, is not a brothel. I employ the people here for honest work. However times are hard and Kirkwall is free. I don't condemn them if they choose to sell themselves to the guests, but I am, in no way their pimp and therefore The Rose takes none of the sovereign they make." She paused her rant, staring into Sebastian harder, with a look capable of striking a man's soul dead. "Even if this were a brothel Commander, your men would still be expected to act like gentlemen and not the pack of wild dogs that they are. If my staff complains, about you or your men being too rough just once, you will all find yourselves sleeping on the streets! And mind me when I say Templar, Kirkwall is mighty unforgiving on these winter nights, when the sun no longer warms the skin."

"I assure you ma'am that the men and women will be unharmed and treated with the utmost respect." Said Sebastian earnestly, placing his hand lightly on her wrist to douse the bit of magicka. If the staff were half as prickly as their mistress, it was going to be his men in desperate need of protecting. "There will be no trouble with my men. I give you my word as a gentleman and an officer." To his surprise, Mrs. Hawke's studied composure abruptly faltered. Her cheeks coloured a cherry red.

"Your word, Serha, as a gentleman? As an officer?" she mimicked quietly, pulling her wrist from his grasp.

"Yes ma'am." He said intrigued by the sudden change in the icy Mistress. "My word as both, you have no reason to doubt that. I vow it to the Maker himself."

"Then I suppose that will have to be enough." She sighed. A tight smile plastered on her pretty face. She turned swiftly on her heel, "follow me Serha. I'll show you to your quarters." Collecting his helm and cloak, Sebastian nodded briefly to his Corporal, dismissing him, before following Lady Hawke to the stairs. He watched as she swiftly gathered the train of her robe to ascend the stairs unimpeded, revealing to him the slightest glimpse of a diamond patterned tattoo, placed on the most narrow part of the back of her left thigh, within the tattoo were staggered lines that met and formed into uneven points. To most the piece would be no more than a tribal marking. Sebastian knew better though, had seen it before, just never so far South. He knew the Qunari had occupied/attacked Kirkwall, but he strongly doubted they'd gift this wisp of a woman with such an honor. The symbol of the Triumvirate was sacred to the Qunari, their religion. Only the most respected of the Qun were given the mark. It was a sort of Rite of Passage. He couldn't help but wonder if she knew the danger she put herself in bearing such a mark. Any of the Qun would be demanded to kill this Ms. on the spot, if ever they saw it upon her.

"I have put you in one of the Roses biggest suites Serha." She said unlocking the door, moving to the side for him to go into the room first. "I trust it will suit?"

"How could it not ma'am?" Sebastian responded, forgetting the tattoo for now and focusing on the room before him. He tossed his helm and cloak on the bed. Glad to see that his trunk and bow had already been delivered. Like the rest of the tavern the room was furnished elegantly. The bed was a canopy, with deep, green silk sheets. Its four posts were stained with a deep mahogany and adorned with thick, white curtains. "We poor soldiers seldom have such grand quarters."

Her glance alone, managed to scornfully dismiss his comment for the gallantry it was.

"According to your Knight-Vigilant, you'll have a cord of wood for your fire, delivered here each week. I suggest you draw your curtains tightly around your bed at night, Mr. Vael. It's clear your Divine isn't familiar with how cold Kirkwall winters are, or she would have granted her officers three, instead of one. She walked to the window arms folded over her chest. She moved gracefully the sway of her hips natural, not forced like the woman of Orlais. "I thought you'd prefer a room in the front, so that you could keep watch over the front door, to make sure none of us wicked rebels could escape you.

This time Sebastian wasn't listening to her mockery. The weak winter sun upon her cheek lit her face in a way that was almost familiar. "We've met before haven't we?" It was less of a question than a statement. He frowned moving closer to her, trying to find her place in his past. "At a party perhaps in Starkhaven? Or maybe Redcliffe? My brothers and I used to frequent the Arl's estate there.

"You're mistaken, Serha." She said quickly, much too quickly to be anything else but a lie. She touched her fingers to the golden locket around her neck, rubbing it nervously. "You and I would never have been seen in the same places, nor would we have run in the same circles."

He waved his hand impatiently about to continue when she stopped him once more. " I am originally from Lothering and you from Starkhaven, we never would have met. I come from common stock; you were spoon fed, from a golden spoon. Now, if there's nothing more you require of me I have other matters to attend to." She left him by the window. Her head bowed slightly to avoid meeting his eyes, as she began to close the door after her.

"One last question Mistress Hawke." Sebastian called. Watching as her whole back tensed and she reluctantly looked back at him. He smiled slowly, slightly teasingly holding her gaze. "You've been so kind, to house my men in your attic and lesser rooms. You've given me this generous suite to use. But we're, ma'am, will that leave you to rest your own weary head this night?"

"Your concern touches me, Knight-Commander. Where shall I sleep?" she said, picking up the gauntlet he'd thrown down, smiling a smile that rivaled his own. "In my own bed, behind a locked door, with one of my favored daggers laying next to me on my pillow and a shock of fisted magicka at the ready. Good day to you, Knight-Commander. May the blight taint your Templar soul in the black hell you deserve."

The door clicked shut, leaving Sebastian with a foolish smile stuck on his face. If she wanted a battle from him, then a battle she'd get. He'd make her his second, more personal priority. Another chance to subdue one more rebel, before he was done he'd have her surrendering completely.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Rogue's Conquest _

_Chapter Three._

"Andraste's knicker weasels, if they really want us to believe they're here 'peacefully', they'd at least wait until noon to start up that incessant drumming." Marian Hawke groused. "I mean what are they on about anyways? Peacocking through the bloody city like they already own it!" With her legs propped atop stacks of missives and ledgers that had once been a refinished, cherry oak writing desk, Marian leaned back in her chair, her head pounding to the drumbeat emanating from the streets below. It had started in the wee hours of dawn, first it was a soft thrumming from the docks, then a more persistent throbbing, like a mild toothache, and now it was a full on barrage of hammering that was about as subtle as a charging bull… A very angry, armed to the teeth, army of charging bulls, that only served to remind Marian how stupid she was for allowing a full battalion of _"elite Templars"_ into Kirkwall. "It'll be good for the city I said, it'll be fun I said." Growling at herself, Marian threw her legs from the desk, pushing her chair away from the disheveled papers her sudden outburst left in it's wake. The chair squealed across the hardwood floor, toppling over as Marian left it to pace her chamber. She started at the balcony doors, joining Isabela for a brief moment to survey the scene of Templars below, and then, at the sight of all the shimmering, white armour she crossed the room in ten breakneck steps to the entrance of her quarters. How foolish she'd been to think that anything could puncture such a solid wall of hatred and fear. She had welcomed these Templars into her city, and had high hopes for peace when the initial number of whitecoats was only in the hundreds, but within a few days, like great, white locust, they had descended upon Kirkwall, their numbers growing everyday. At last count the number had reached two thousand in the city alone. With this new regiments arrival it would likely double that tally. Four thousand soldiers for a simple query? "Not bleeding likely."

"I'm surprised that you don't have a hole worn into your floor, Hawke." Isabela murmured, leaning a shoulder on the glass of the balcony doors. Marian could feel the pirate queen's eyes studying her. "There's no sense raking yourself over the coals. Taking it up the arse from the Divine won't be that bad. By the looks of the Templars outside she certainly knows how to pick her men, if nothing else we can say the material she's so graciously saddled us with is snog worthy."

"Ack, men?" Marian questioned with disbelief as she glimpsed over Isabela's shoulders to spy the group of soldiers loitering below. "MEN! You say? They look more like frightened pups to me. Cornered, snarling pups, but pups just the same. How embarrassing it must be for Justinia that her "Elite" is made up of nothing more than boys, unready for the duties they're being told to perform." Throwing her arms up, Marian sighed, halting her brief surge of lunacy mid-rant. "Good Morning B." She said more calmly then she felt, her eyes taking in the woman before her for the first time since they'd awoken. Standing relaxed, as maddeningly usual, with her hip cocked to one side, her arms crossed beneath her breasts and caramel eyes focused on the streets below, Isabela painted a stunning picture. Morning was always the best time to truly glimpse her, the best way in Marian's opinion anyways. In the first rays of light the pirate queen was stripped down, with no trace of make-up, rocking bed head and not a single golden bauble in sight. She wore a silk sheet stolen from the bed, tied loosely above her breasts and left to cascade down over the voluptuous curves of her body, it's white sheen a stark contrast to her tanned skin. She was real. In Marian's bedchamber, Isabela wasn't the normally "saucy slattern" she made herself out to be. Here she was just a woman. Vulnerable…Beautiful.

"Good morning indeed." Purred Isabela, letting the sheet dip, just a little lower to tease as she touched her index finger beneath Marian's chin and lifted it gently until their eyes met. "This isn't the end of the world, Hawke." Isabela assured, "just another upheaval, like the Blight, or the deep roads, The Qunari…" She trailed off, something tethering her eyes back to the icy world below "By the Gods." She drawled her demeanor changing from angel to temptress in the blink of an eye. "Would you take a look at that one Hawke! The Divine may have sent boys, but Andraste's flaming knickers, if that's not a MAN," Isabela crudely gestured, her hands measuring such an outrageous length the Arishok would be jealous. "I don't know what is." Arching a disbelieving eyebrow at the pirate's approval, but unable to help her curiosity, Marian pushed her way in front of her awestruck lover to get a glimpse of what such a spectacular specimen could possibly look like. Who on earth could make the Queen of Hearts - a nickname Marian had lovingly taken to calling the pirate with the laundry list of broken hearts left in her wake – own heart stop?

The sense of foreboding hit her a millisecond before the bolt of lightening raced down her spine, a familiar zing of electricity that had once lit a dangerous flame within her. A flame that had been dormant for so long she'd nearly forgotten it ever existed to begin with. "Gods! Noooo!" Marian choked out. Her eyes blinked rapidly, her brain not willing to get on board with what her heart had already begun to accept. _"You traitorous asshole."_ A ferocious voice howled in her head as her hand shot up to claw at the skin protecting the offending piece of organ. Bile bubbled up into her throat, burning like acid and tears rimmed her eyes. "A dream! This has to be a dream." Wildly, Marian began pinching her forearm; crimson welts appearing each more painful than the last. What a confusing scene she had to be making for Isabela. But she couldn't help it, couldn't seem to rein in her torrential fuck storm of emotions. "Wake up, Mari. Wake up now! Please! He's not real, he can't be real." She pleaded as a single tear escaped, streaking down her cheek. Sheer panic took her over as his haunting eyes met her own. She'd spent what felt like a lifetime recalling those dancing orbs… Dreaming of them… She had to get out of here, had to… She wasn't sure; she'd never made a plan B for this situation. Never in a million ages did Marian believe he'd cross her path again. Yet, there he was, as handsome as the devil… And who could look past the cold irony that he'd come to Marian as her enemy?

"Marian? You look like you're going to pass out sweet thing. Are you alright?" Isabela's concern was palpable, panicking Marian further, and as Bela reached out to comfort her, Marian feigned left, ducking right to snake away from the pirate queen's grasp only to find herself twisted up in the silk sheet Isabela wore, yanking the thin fabric down as she went, it's wispy threads wrapped around Marian's flailing limbs like grubby tentacles, crashing her to the ground. She struggled hard, desperate as if wrestling a hungry lion.

"Hawke!" She heard Isabela's alarm, the confusion making her voice shrill, as her deft hands tried to release Marian from the cacoon prison. "Relax, Mari! I can't help you if you're fighting me. Tell me what's happening?"

"_Tell her?"_ As if Marian even knew where to begin to explain. No! She had to get out. Had to compose herself and then she'd meet Sebastian Vael head on, like she had every challenge before this. With any luck he wouldn't recognize her. Wait! She'd make sure he wouldn't recognize her. There was nothing left of the little maid she'd been. She was Marian Hawke for fuck sakes, her name meant something now. SHE! Meant something now! Resolved and faintly reassured, she stopped struggling, calmed her breathing and halted her blubbering, allowing Isabela to help her up. Meeting her lover's wide, concerned eyes, Marian hardened her own and shrugged sheepishly, forcing a smile to her lips. "I…" She started, and then stopped snapping her mouth shut. No explanation in the world, beyond the truth, could possibly make sense. And Marian knew Isabela better than she knew the back of her own hand. The Pirate Queen was far too cunning to accept any poor lie Marian could pick from the clouds. So without a sound, she bent over, grabbing the sheet from the ground, where it had just given her the beat down of a lifetime, and handed it to Isabela. With that done she turned on her heel, collected her dress, shoes and baubles from the night before, where she and Isabela had left them scattered, and made for the door. Since she had to greet Sebastian, she'd greet him in her best, instead of the boy slacks and oversized shirt she wore now.

"You have secrets Hawke." Isabela admonished.

"Don't we all?" Marian responded, before leaving the safety of her chambers.

**8-8-8 **

Marian watched out her balcony doors, pleased to be back in the warmth of her private quarters. Her heart was still pounding furiously and she found herself grateful for the first time, that Isabela had vacated the room, though Marian suspected that her always-inquisitive lover would be back to prod soon enough. "Balls." She groaned. She'd have to figure out an excuse before then if she planned to keep her past in the past. With only the crackling from the hearth making sound in the quiet room, Sebastian's words rang loudly in Marian's ears _"__We've met before haven't we?__"_ He' d nearly recognized her… "Almost, dear Prince." And though the sane part of her was glad he hadn't, the unhinged, lovesick part of her was left bereaved by it. She'd truly been nothing to the man. A man that had been everything to her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Marian leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the cool glass of her balcony door. She closed her eyes, replaying the morning. For a man she swore to hate, his very presence seemed to affect her in quite the opposite manner. He was broader than she remembered, his lips fuller. He no longer held the appearance of a boyish rogue. The planes of his face were sharper, more masculine, his easy charm, that had been her undoing so long ago, even better practiced now and his once perfect nose looked as if it had been broken at least a few times. There could be no doubt that the life of a soldier had aged him, but his eyes… Those orbs of his, danced still and when she had come upon him in her parlor, with the hearth licking at him as he bent and smiled at her, he'd made her feel seventeen all over again. _"Ah, but bonus points for not melting into a pile of goo at his feet this time, Mari."_

Popping her eyes open, Marian stumbled backwards, cursing as the very demon from her waking nightmare strolled out of the tavern, two Templars not far behind. He stopped briefly, stepping just into her line of sight, breathing in the crisp winter air, as he ran a hand through his thick, sorrel hair, before settling his horned helm into place and disappearing from her sight. "_Gone, just like that. Poof!" _

Tossing her arms over her face, Marian flopped herself onto her bed in a huff, her back hitting the plush feathered surface. The Gods be damned! They certainly had a sense of humor, sending Sebastian Vael to her city. "Balls! Balls! BALLS!" Marian whined. The words muffled by her arms still smothering her face.

At least his arrogance had re-ignited her anger. When he'd turned on her… With the flames… And GODS, those EYES! Marian had completely forgotten every ounce of her resolve. Her words had left her, her mouth completely dry… Then he spoke. The brogue she'd once adored was now nearly imperceptible, his accent more of a Ferelden/Orlesian hybrid. And much like their first meeting he'd saved her from herself, only this time he'd given her back her venom and conviction instead of just her words. Could she have been more professional? Perhaps. Did she enjoy the way he seemed to grind his teeth at her while she, in turn, kept composed? Mmm… YES! Maybe a wee bit too much. But she couldn't help it! She just wanted to slap his beautiful face!

Certain he'd departed for the day, Marian slid off the edge of her bed, deciding it was high time she make her way back down to the parlor, contemplating Sebastian as she went. He was a soldier for GODS sake! Weren't Soldiers lives supposed to be notoriously short?! WHAT! Were the phenomenal odds Sebastian's Order would be the one dispatched to Kirkwall? Even more unlikely, that his regiment would be one of only three Elite's to be sent directly into the city. Bethany would tell her it was fate. Would create a story of how they'd end up together, with hearts beating in her big, doe eyes, that wispy smile she'd get when she talked romance curling her lips. Marian's heart clenched a little at the sudden thought of her sister. It had been years since Bethany passed, but still Marian couldn't help but miss her more everyday.

Scrubbing her hands over her face in frustration, as she began to descend the long, winding staircase, Marian was in awe of how shitty such a promising day was turning out to be. Nobody had thought after almost a year, the Divine would dare to send her army. It was assumed the she'd abandoned Kirkwall, not wanting to dirty her hands with the city or it's people. After the first half of the year had passed with no news from Orlais that certainty had gained reasonable ground. Marian had gotten too comfortable, too sloppy. She'd known immediately that they were fucked when Carver, acting as the face of the Viscount in her stead, dropped the missive of peace in front of her. Marian also guessed that the dainty letter was everything BUT a banner of peace. What kind of idiot did the Divine think she was? … Of course she did let the army in peacefully, soooo… _"A giant idiot!"_ What other choice did she have though? Holy War was the only other option, and it wasn't an option at all! The city had seen enough fighting in a six-year span to last three-dozen lifetimes. Kirkwall still wasn't fully recovered. If the Templars attacked the people would fight back of course, but they'd never win, not even with their "Champion" leading them. The Templar army was just too strong against a still recovering city. They'd fight, lose and be terminated. Or worse than death, there was The Tranquil Solution, a termination of the soul instead of the physical body… So, she'd decided to be accommodating in the hopes that the order would see Kirkwall was at peace and wasn't another Imperium.

Except now, that decision had come back to bite her on the ass… And funny enough, not even the way she'd expected it to. The very man, who had once, so very long ago almost ruined her life, was back and now the stakes were even higher. Gods! He could bring her carefully constructed world crashing down around her.

Marian slid, like a limp noodle, into one of the plush chairs before the hearth. Rubbing the back of her neck, her fingers found the closure of her locket, unclasping it, she let the golden pendent slide into her palm and with trembling fingers she opened it, first looking to the right part of the golden heart, to her sister's eyes staring back. The portrait was her favorite, and the only one she had. What would Beth think about all of this? About Marian? Would she be proud? A tear slipped from the corner of Marian's eye before she could stop it. Hastily she swiped at the stray droplet, too afraid that if her inner dame broke she'd never be able to stop the flood.

She looked to the left side of the heart, to the portrait of Nova, painted a year ago to celebrate Kirkwall's freedom. The artist had perfectly grasped the little girl's serious smile and wide turquoise eyes, which looked upon the world with wisdom far beyond her years. So much like her mother everyone would say affectionately. Lloyd had often joked that it was a good thing their daughter had taken Marian's looks and not his. "Thank the Maker." He'd say while looking upon the baby, "That our girl takes after you, Love, and not her father." His face would light up with pride. In those moments Marian always felt like the lying snake she was. What Lloyd hadn't realized was Nova looked exactly like her father. More than Marian would have liked in fact. Her thick, straight, sorrel locks and roguish smile would be enough to prove her relation to the Vael's, but much to Marian's dismay, Nova also carried the Vael's signature turquoise eyes, which matched Sebastian's perfectly. Aye the girl favored her father all right.

The day the portrait was painted, had been the same day Marian also realized she didn't know much about her young daughter. There'd always been a job, or a war she was thrust into head first, leaving little time for herself and even less for Nova. With Kirkwall finally at peace, Marian had seen an opportunity to stop playing "Champion," and start playing the mother she always should have been. That's when she'd decided to talk to Carver about him taking her seat. She could trust him. He had grown into a fine man within the Warden ranks, no longer the petty boy he'd been. She'd been confident that with her still pulling the strings, he'd do just fine with the responsibility of "Champion" and Viscount. It hadn't even been that hard to bow out of the spotlight. Varric spun his silver-tongued tales with Carver in the center of it all. As far as the people of the city went, they were loyal to the Hawke's; as long as one stood at the helm of the city they were satisfied. Leaving her to exit stage left as easy as that. She moved from the Amell estate. Handing over the deed to Carver and Merrill knowing the newly weds would want their privacy, especially with that babe of theirs on the way. She bought the Rose shortly after that, the decision initially made from convenience, figuring it would help break the image of her as "Champion." Who'd think the slight tavern keep capable of bringing a city to its knees? Once moved in, something profound had happened though, she had finally felt a sense of home for the first time since that small farm her parents had rented in Lothering. Marian had changed the Rose, making her into the lady she deserved to be.

Now, in _HER_ beloved home, she sat nervously rubbing her thumb over her daughters' portrait. She'd been so painstakingly certain every angle had been thought out, and tweaked to work in her favor. But then Sebastian Vael… She really hadn't expected him, at least not in her waking hours. In the fade he was a regular at The Rose. He always rode up on a beautiful, pure-white stallion, with chocolates in hand, completely naked in all his golden glory, begging her forgiveness. She gave it nightly without hesitation and they'd ride off into the sunset.

Marian couldn't stifle the laugh that bubbled up at the ridiculous image. "Gods! Isabela." She said out loud to the empty lounge "Your sinfully, foolish tales have perverted my brain."

As if waiting to be summoned, the Pirate Queen sauntered out of the shadows, a mischievous look plastered on her pretty face. She'd left the silk sheet behind in favour of an exceptionally deep-necked, black corset laced up the front with leather ties and inlayed with gold plated armour. The baubles adorning her neck and arms clinked lightly as she moved and the scarlet sash at her waist, quivered with every sway of her voluptuous hips. The leggings she wore were so tight they conformed to her like a blackened second skin, leaving little beneath them to the imagination. _" Mhmmm, this is definitely my favorite way to glimpse my Pirate!"_ Marian mused, her body growing taught at the sight before her.

"I knew you read my books Hawke! Hard in Hightown is full of win. Am I right?" Isabela drawled.

"Ohhh, Isabela." Marian scolded, suddenly feeling exposed. Marian's skin prickled, realization striking her; Isabela had likely been there for some time longer than Marian had wished her to be. _"A pirate's curious nature be damned!"_ "How long have you been stalking those shadows for?" She asked, trying to keep her demeanor nonchalant.

"Long enough to see you cow that delectable Chantry choir boy into submission." Isabela smirked. "That poor man hadn't the faintest idea whether to kiss you, or kill you."

"_Balls! Wait, what"…_"That poor man?" Marian chaffed, her indignation ripe. "You do realize that, THAT man is here to lock every single one of us up in some Orlesian prison, to rot for the rest of our lives, right? And that's if we're lucky. I certainly wouldn't put the tranquil solution passed them! Forget cowing him, I should want his blood on principal alone!"

Isabela grinned then, moving toward Marian's chair with a _"I know everything Hawke, I know all your naughty little secrets. Mwhahaha!"_ sort of gait… Or maybe that was Marian's guilt…Perhaps both? By the look on Isabela's face she certainly didn't believe Marian's likely _"But he's an evil Templar!"_ story.

"Are you sure it's his blood you want, sweet thing?" Isabela goaded, her knowing smile unnerving.

"The Divine seems to think we evil mages want the souls of you non-magi folk. I suppose I'd take his soul, if that's what you mean." Marian snickered in spite of her misery at the day's events. Contemplating the little locket once more, Marian shifted herself in her chair, allowing Isabela to perch atop the plushy arm.

"I wonder Hawke, which one are you crying for?" Isabela gestured toward the portraits, Sebastian forgotten for the moment, though Marian suspected it wasn't the end of the conversation by a long shot.

"Both." Was Marian's simple, reply. "I miss them both so much Bela. My sister, she'd be so fascinated by everything that's happened. She'd be involved in all the going ons and I'd be off my meds crazy fearing what trouble her curiosity would get her into." As another tear slid from Marian's eye, she clicked the locket shut, handing it to Isabela, so the pirate could refasten it back into place for her.

"I didn't get to meet Bethany sweet thing," Isabela whispered, her hands quick to latch the locket. "From what I've heard of her though, she'd be so proud of you." Marian placed a hand lightly on the rogue's leg, her head lifting to meet the pirate's beautiful face.

"She'd love this place B. It's one of the reasons I bought it, I've always imagined her throwing a grand ball right here in the parlor." Marian gestured, her left arm sweeping the room." We'd have every noble here and I'd be shit faced long before the end of the night." Marian giggled.

"We'd both be." Laughed Isabela, "we'd wake up wearing no pants, hanging from one of these fancy chandeliers." Isabela's voice devious, as she motioned towards the ceiling were the diamond fixtures hung. They both laughed, a deep guttural sound, the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt and the heart soar. The ring of it echoed through the grand parlor, bouncing from wall to wall and back to them, their eyes watering.

The happiness, the laughter, ended too soon though, Marian dropped her arm, her hand going back to the locket around her neck, as she nibbled her lower lip a nervous tell she'd had since she was little.

"You did the right thing Mari. Sending Nova to live with Rana and Zevran while these Templars run the city was the best thing you could have done for her. A tavern over run by rough soldiers isn't a place for a sweet angel." Marian smiled up at Bela, but how could she tell the pirate, it wasn't the rough soldiers that she feared, as much as the one very polished Knight-Commander?

A fortnight ago, when she'd told Carver to send word back to the Divine, she had immediately begun making plans for Nova to stay with her cousin, The Hero of Ferelden, who'd recently taken up residence only a few miles away, on the outskirts of the city with her assassin lover, an ex-Antivan Crow. Having no children of their own, unable to due to Rana's Grey Warden status, they had welcomed Nova with open arms, elated to have a child about, even if she was of the borrowed nature. Rana had offered to help teach Nova how to better control her magic, and Zevran had offered his hand in poisons, though Marian had declined the tutelage of the latter for her daughter, still she had no doubt Nova would come home with the knowledge of how to poison a whole city undetected. Marian knew she couldn't have asked for better people to protect her child. She could also have never known how wise of a precaution having her daughter stay with them would prove to be.

Bela's hand drifted down to the locket. Brushing Marian's away, she opened it. "It's got to be a relief too, that without little Nova here it'll be a hell of a lot harder for anyone to put her and the Knight-Commander together… Eh?"

"Wha…B? What are you talki-" Marian stammered… HOW did Isabela do that? How did she put two and two together and come up with one hundred and ten?!

"I always knew she wasn't Lloyd's." Isabela observed as if they were talking the weather over tea. "To be completely honest I thought she was Gabe's… I mean with those eyes, and her hair. It just made sense… But now, after that displ…"

"NO, NO, NO! STOP!" Marian snapped, shooting up from her seat, sending her chair and the pirate reeling for a second time in one day. Her skirts swished around her legs furiously as she turned on Isabela, swinging wildly with electricity sparking from hands. What came next was all very slow motion for Marian, as if she had left her body, her balled fists hit it's mark, she knew by the sickening sound of bone breaking and cartilage crunching, blood poured from Isabela's nose. The pirate careened backwards hitting the floor hard, her bloodied face twisted with amusement, Marian's on the other hand was one of horror. She just struck out at her best mate! What was happening to her? "Isabela… I'm so sorry." Marian pleaded, the electricity in her hands dieing as she rushed to her friend, ripping a strip of her dress to hold to Isabela's nose.

"I think you broke my nose Hawke." Isabela said. "Like, legitimately broke it! What the fuck did that man do to you to make you so crazy?"

Sitting back on her heels Marian's shoulders sagged and her head hung. "I can heal you, B." She could feel her cheeks redden, embarrassment for what she'd done raking over her.

"First, tell me what happened to you Mari. Did you want him Hawke?" Isabela's eyes were deadly serious, even as her nose dripped like a faucet.

"Did I want him?" Marian asked, contemplating how to answer such a general question correctly. "What do you mean? Was I raped?" She sighed, rubbing her hands on her thighs, where her robes had parted. "No... I was naïve." She chuckled, a bitter sound at the reminder of how foolish her youthful self had been. Before Marian knew it, her secrets, every sordid one of them, from her time with Sebastian, to Rana sending Lloyd to his almost certain death at the battle for Redcliff. Everything tumbled forth, held onto for too long. Marian sat for awhile while she recounted them, at times she'd get up to pace the parlor, Bela in turn just sat, listening intently on Marian's words, holding the strip of fabric to her nose.

"And than we landed here. I believe you know the rest." Marian finished, a lifetime of hardships and sleazy affairs told in a mere fifteen minutes. Inhaling deep, she found herself drained as she leaned on the grand piano that sat forgotten in one corner of the parlor, dust drifting from the instrument as her hip met it's old, polished wood. Stiffly Marian crossed her arms over her chest, meeting Isabela's gaze for the first time since her story had begun. "So, I'm a cheat, a liar and not at all the champion these people believe me to be, shocking eh?"

"You're the Champion they needed Mari, they still do. Which of us isn't a thief, a liar, or a cheat?" Isabela assured, her voice nasally from her injured nose. "Hell I'm a pirate. How do you think I earned that title? I can assure you it wasn't with pure thoughts and saintly actions."

"Every single one of them would despise me if they knew." Marian said. "And you know it. Regardless of how long ago it was, or what I've done for them, he is the enemy and that's all anybody will see." And they would. Marian knew people, she understood them and how perilous being on top of their golden pedestal was, further more she knew how quick one could topple off said pedestal. "Bela a lot of crazy shit has happened in this life, but this could ruin Nova and I. I need to know you won't meddle." Marian emphasized, wagging the index finger on her left hand as if Isabela was a petulant child. "He's never to know. Not EVER. You've screwed me in the past, but this…This is huge!"

"You take one lowly, little book from horned mongrels and suddenly nobody trusts you." Isabela threw her arms in the air, stomping her left foot in annoyance.

"That book isn't just any old relic. It's their bloody religion, their way of life! The Qunari almost wasted the entire city because of it Isabela!"

"You're always so dramatic Hawke. I knew you'd win."

She'd won, yeah, it had only taken everything Marian could throw at the fucking Qunari leader, and even then he'd just kept coming. She'd battled lots of Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast. Perhaps she had walked into the duel with too much arrogance, but no Qunari had ever given her reason to pause. When her Crushing Prison failed to hold the Arishok Marian had known the game was being played totally different. Then her Cone of Cold failed… She hit him with fire next, only to watch him laugh in her face as he stalked her, patting out the flames on his skin. He'd out-foxed Marian, played with her; let her whittle her mana down to nothing before he attacked with brutality and animalistic ferocity. It had only been Isabela's quick thinking, her favored daggers and her early duelist teachings, that she'd insisted Marian take part in, that had saved her.

Marian shook her head in disbelief, her mouth hanging in a perfect O. "Look," She groaned, annoyed and desperate. "The past is past, if I was going to stay angry about it, I would've just sent you packing with the Arishok like he wanted, instead of killing him. The relic and Qunari, they don't matter anymore. I need your word you won't screw me on this Bela." Marian growled pushing her index finger hard into the piano top she leaned on. The pirate, now up from the floor, prowled toward her like a sleek cat. Laying her hands on either side of Marian, boxing her in. Their faces were only inches apart, Marian worked her bottom lip in anticipation knowing what would come next, but before it could she needed to hear Isabela's promise. "Bela promise me you won't screw me on this." Hawke whispered, placing a hand on the pirate's face, healing her wounded nose.

"I promise Mari," was Isabela's purred response. The pirate lightly ghosted her lips over Marian's as if to seal the promise with an intoxicating kiss. Marian sighed, relief washing over her as she sagged into Isabela's welcoming curves. Marian heard the sultry, rasp low in Isabela's throat, before she was hoisted onto the dusty surface of the old piano.

"Now Hawke." The pirate thrummed into her ear, sending shivers racing up and down her spine. "Can I screw you on this?" Isabela asked, bouncing Hawke lightly, loose piano keys singing beneath the thumping of her bottom. Slowly Isabela raised the hem of Marian's dress, exposing her flesh to the cool air. The pirate's hands coming down hard onto Marian's bare thighs, reddening the sensitive flesh on contact. Marian mewled, bucking into the bolt of pained, pleasure. Swiftly she spread her knees apart to give the Rivaini woman better access. "Wanton whore!" Isabela chided playfully. "Though until you answer my question, I fear we simply can't continue."

"Isabela," Marian choked out around a moan. "If you don't screw me, I may explode. We wouldn't want that now would we?" She answered, already half mad with need she captured Isabela's mouth with her own, forcing the issue.

**_Isabela's POV_**

Isabela took control of Hawke's demanding lips, slowing the pace as she climbed on top of her woman. She kissed her one last time, a feather-light caress on her lips, before she journeyed over the sharp planes of Marian's silken jaw line and up to the shell of her ear. She nibbled gently to start, slowly increasing the pressure, coaxing a sweet little moan from Marian. The little mage's arms encircled Isabela's arse, trying desperately to pull the pirate closer, to spur her on to the best parts. Isabela smiled inwardly at her little pet's impatience, and decided to reward her sweetness. Resting her knee between Marian's lush thighs, Isabela circled it lightly at the young mages core, allowing Marian to take over and quicken the speed and friction as she saw fit. It didn't last though, Isabela kissed Marian one last time before she pulled away. The mage whimpered.

"Isabela, pleassssse!" Marian pleaded.

"Ah, the impatience of youth." Isabela smirked, refusing to bow to Marian's plea. She kept her pace slow knowing it would drive Marian over the edge of control, and that was exactly where Isabela wanted her. Pushing the emerald green robes over Hawke's shoulders, Isabela was delighted over the sight she'd seen often, but never found herself sick of, two perfectly shaped globes beneath the silk fabric. She circled her thumbs over the cherry buds, lightly pinching them, capturing Hawke's throaty moan with her mouth letting it vibrate through her own wanton body.

Straddling Hawke's waist Isabela reared up, calmly she peeled away her armor, piece, by agonizing piece, keeping Marian mewling, and begging beneath her. Just as the last piece of Isabela's armor fell to the ground Marian struck _"Mmmm, yes, over the edge." _The mage moved like lightening, before Isabela could react her bare skin met the cool piano top. She watched, intrigued as Hawke slowly slid down her body, the underside of the mages tongue tracing the path with little jolts of electricity.

Isabela tingled from it all the way to her toes. Gods she loved mages! All thought was lost, when Hawke came to rest on the swollen ball of nerve endings, sending light jolts from her tongue, to the already pulsating pearl, then changing it up to light bursts of cold. The random sensations had Isabela bucking off the table. Her body was on the brink of explosion, just a little more friction. In one perfectly practiced motion Bela felt herself being filled, Marian's long, expert fingers curled up in a "come hither" motion. It was then Marian turned up the heat zapping electrical sparks upward hitting that sacred G. The world shattered, stars blinding Isabela as she raced through her first orgasm, sinking her blunt nails into the wood beneath. Her pleasured yelps echoed through the empty parlor. Not even Zevran could beat a mage, she thought hazily.

Opening her eyes slowly, the world still slightly spinning Isabela caught Hawke's smug smile. _"The mage thinks she's won does she?"_ That just wouldn't do. In one smooth motion, she was off the piano. In the next moment she had a fist full of silky, red curls wrapped around her right hand. She bent Hawke face first over the table, lightly smacking her backside when the mage tried rearing back.

She grazed her fingers over Marian's already drenched folds, lifting Marian's passion to her lips, easing up on the mage's curls, letting her watch as Isabela drank in her passion. Strawberries and cream mixed with magic invaded her mouth. Isabela closed her eyes in bliss. The taste of Hawke was as addicting as lyrium dust.

She felt Marian trembling underneath the hand she still held twisted in her hair. "Maker Isabela." She gasped, "please..." the woman trailed off, arching her hips up to Isabela.

"Please what sweet thing? Tell me what you want and it's yours." Growled the pirate the sound of her name on Hawke's tongue awakening a darker predatory instinct. She thrust her hips into the mages rear, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing.

"I want.. I want you please Isabela! I want you!" Marian wailed attempting to thrash her head, from side to side, frustration etched in her beautiful face.

It was then Isabela caught a glance of something shiny out of the corner of her eye. She looked towards the door passively to see the Knight-Commander, half on the verge of running for the hills and yet completely rooted in place. How long had he been there she wondered. By the look on his face, she suspected quite some time. Laughing lowly, she caught his eye, winking at him, a lazy devilish smile playing upon her lips. She certainly hoped the Commander stuck around for the rest of the show. Perhaps he could even take a few pointers from afar on how to please the fiery woman under her firm grip.


	4. Chapter 4

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Four_

They lay; legs entangled with each other's, Isabela's head pillowed on top of Hawke's chest. Her breathing was slow and study, somewhere between the fade and reality. Every so often she'd arch into Marian's light circling fingers on her spine, purring her approval, before cuddling in closer to the mage's body. At some point during their sport, they'd made it to the floor and now were spread naked before the warmth of the crackling hearth. The polished hardwood beneath them was as comfortable as any plush rug, though Marian couldn't explain why, perhaps these moments were too precious to ruin over such silly things as discomfort. Isabela so rarely stayed for the aftermath of sex, preferring to exit immediately after the deed. Marian however, enjoyed relishing in the calm after the storm, with her lover sated next to her.

Absentmindedly, Marian stroked the pirate's back, while thinking over everything that had transpired in the last few hours. She still wasn't completely willing to accept and believe he was here. Sebastian Vael haunted her nightly in the fade as her lover, in her waking hours he shone brightly in her precious Nova and now… He would be marching through her tavern and city as her enemy. Oh how them sainted Gods enjoyed their irony. She'd have to live with Sebastian, she accepted this fact, and the question now was how she was going to do that? One moment she wanted to throttle him with a fireball for his smug, arrogance and in the next, she could barely keep herself from melting into a pile of sexual desire before his feet. The very thought of Sebastian's sun kissed body gloriously naked, with her jockeying his most blessed member had her pulse racing and heat flooding to her nether regions. She groaned silently to herself at the images. Andraste's tits, her emotions had never been so volatile. She was known to be diplomatic in all her dealings. Her ability to hide her feelings and stay neutral to every cause is what garnered her the favor of Kirkwall's people. She was levelheaded GOD DAMN IT! Though much like everything else that had been shifted with the Templar invasion, she supposed that her rational mind had to turned traitor and fled. All she could hope was that this "inquiry" wouldn't last long. That he would leave, back to whatever hole he crawled out of and she'd only ever have to think of Sebastian Vael, as a not so fond memory.

Though… If she were honest with herself… Since giving up her titles, life had gotten boring for her around Kirkwall. Sure she still over saw issues the people of the city had, but it was never anything more than bored nobles squabbling over land titles, or her personal favorite, "the incoming of Ferelden dog lord refugees." Sometimes she wondered if they'd forgotten were she, their "Champion" had come from. But even with those small amusements she often found herself bored. She hadn't roasted a single bandit in almost a year, maybe longer! He added spice to her life, Sebastian Vael did, whether she cared to admit it or not.

"Mistress Hawke there's a – Ooo… ohh my…" Orana fumbled at the entrance of the parlor. "Forgive me mistress, but the door was open." The little elf danced from foot to foot uncomfortably, eyeing the two naked women before her. Both Hawke and Isabela, now fully awake, simply lay there watching Orana's nervous tsking. Marian was surprised the elf wasn't scolding her and Isabela for their, 'brazen display' as Orana no doubt thought it, in a public parlor were anyone could walk in no less. "_GASP! The scandal of it!" _Marian could almost hear the stern woman's thoughts.

Orana hadn't always been a fearsome lioness. In fact, when Marian first found the petite whip, in the bowels of a slaver den on the Wounded Coast, the girl had been frightened of everything, being beaten constantly and watching your entire family bled like swine, to fuel blood magic, did that to a person Marian suspected. Orana had also been incredibly confused, knowing only a slave's life she had no experience beyond that of her master's will. Marian had known she couldn't send the girl away; that she'd end up in the wrong hands if she'd been sent fleeing from the cavern alone, so Marian did the only decent thing she could, she employed the elf, not knowing how much of a blessing she'd be to Marian. As time went on Marian also made it her mission, to coax the young elf out of her slave shell and much to Marian's delight, it had worked, Orana was sharp tongued and full of fire. Though Hawke couldn't take the credit, she suspected that Fenris, once a Tevinter slave himself had been the real reason for Orana's change. The two ex-slaves initially started a rocky friendship over their shared abuses, finding understanding were there had been none. With time and perhaps some extreme meddling from both Marian and Isabela, the elves started spending more time together. Eventually Orana began spending her nights away from the Rose in favor of Fenris' commandeered mansion. They were good for one another, each teaching the other new things. Orana taught Fenris to forgive, to love and in return Fenris taught Orana to be tough in the face of adversity, and what it meant to be loved so completely. Marian had even begun to spot the couple walking about the Hightown markets, arms linked Fenris relaxed but watchful, while Orana haggled with merchants over prices.

And Gods the little elf could haggle! She could talk a leprechaun into giving up his gold and he'd throw in his hat for good measure. Without Orana, Marian wasn't sure she'd have been able to keep the Rose running so smooth. She was Marian's right hand and the Rose's head chef. Orana's cooking was to blame for Marian's ever growing arse. From Kirkwall, to Starkhaven and beyond the elven woman's cooking was a delicacy. There had even been a bard that visited the Rose once, to write a song for her and the cooking that brought kings to their knees. The pretty elf could go anywhere and find better work. Far better than Marian could ever offer, but she stayed. Her loyalty to Marian was strong, as was Marian's to her. She'd damn the consequences and raise absolute hell if Orana so wished it.

"No harm done Orana." Bela said stretching like a lazy cat, before untangling herself from Marian to fetch her armor scattered about the room. "Hawke and I were just working on our battle strategy." Isabela deadpanned." You know to take down this Templar influence. I think it's going well if I do say so myself."

"I'm sorry Ms, Bela, I fear your "strategy" will fail miserably!" Orana said curling her fingers in invisible quotations. "Throwing tail at chaste men seems like a futile plan. Maker, do you think they'd even know what to do with it if you did?" Her sweet voice dripped with feigned wonder. The elf winked towards the pirate, all three women breaking into laughter.

"Well you see, we were actually talking battle plans," Marian interjected seriously. "But Isabela can be so insatiable sometimes! I mean really, one minute we're talking about Templar boats docking in our harbors and in the next we're on the piano, making it sing… Naked!"

"I like big boats, I can not lie." Retorted Isabela with a sighed giggle.

"Oh aye B, I remember that well. After all you did try to slit my throat that one time." Marian mused, rubbing at her throat where she could still feel the cold, biting steel of the blade. She turned a thoughtful gaze to the hearths slowly dying embers. "I suppose with so many Templars underfoot, we should probably at the very least close the door though."

"Yes mistress, if you ever plan on getting rid of them that is. They may be chaste, but they are still men. You'll be accommodating Templars even after the Divine pulls out, if you're giving them free shows."

From behind her she heard Isabela snort something barely audible about talking to the Knight-Commander, but Marian missed it. Before she could question her, Bela was leaving with a grin over her shoulder, waving with her pinky finger then melding into the shadows. Marian moved from her warmed spot on the hardwood floor. Stretching her overworked form, she groaned, her taut muscles yelping in protest. It would seem her and Bela's sport had been wild indeed, she laughed dreamily.

Orana briskly moved around the room collecting Hawke's clothes. Once she secured every item, including the small emerald clip that had been in Marian's fiery hair, the elf tossed them at her mistress, bringing Marian out of her daze and back to reality. Quickly Marian dressed, with Orana's help, she smoothed her curls and re-pinned the clip. Just like that Marian Hawke donned her icy mask, glazing over her vivid ocean blue eyes, with the dead solemn ones she showed the world. She was again the frigid widow and tavern owner that people, other than her close friends, knew her as.

"Now, Orana I want you to be certain you always keep the cellar door locked. I also want you to make sure as long as these Templar scum are housed in the Rose, that you leave absolutely nothing unattended in the kitchen. While that young Corporal has assured me, that the Templar force would be receiving rations from their own quartermaster, I have serious doubts the men will be able to resist stealing a taste of your cooking."

"I don't know a man who can Mari." Orana proudly stated. "Trust me though, if any of those self important, golden horned eunuchs, come sneaking about my kitchen, they'll be met swiftly with my cleaver."

_A changed woman indeed_, Hawke thought merrily. "If we had just a few more hundred of you and that cleaver, we'd have these chantry men running back to their Divine in fear." Marian laughed only half joking. Orana had become a lethal woman under Fenris' tutelage. "Now as for supper-"

Orana raised her hand to silence Marian. "I actually came in here to tell you Serha Gabriel and Messere Anders, are in the kitchen asking for you."

"Gabriel is here? Now?!" Hawke asked, a little frantic.

"Aye Mari and Messere Anders as well." Marian hardly heard Orana's answer. She quickly lifted her robes so she wouldn't trip over them and made for the kitchen. Both Gabriel Vael and Anders were known as brave men, daring men even. Gabriel had fought next to Marian for peace and freedom, and of course Anders had started the title wave that began the mage's rebellion in the first place. Brave as they may be though, they were both tempting fate coming to the Rose while the Divine's army occupied her. Anders for Maker's sake; was still wanted for his crimes against the chantry.

When she made it to the kitchen, the room was empty. Orana's half-crimped piecrust sat on the counter, next to the rolling pin. The back door was closed and latched. Perhaps they got sick of waiting, or they had to leave to avoid a Templar solider. More likely, Anders realized how stupid it had been for them to come to the tavern in the first place and talked Gabe into leaving. Confused she walked toward the back door, to bolt it shut for good measure.

The man's hand snaked around her mouth before she could scream, the other quickly coming around her waist, she didn't have time to react, to think. The arm around her waist managed to pin her arms to her sides when he grabbed her. Though not having her arms free wouldn't stop her from channeling magic, it did make it more difficult. With her mana still depleted from her and B's love making she was trapped. Her attacker was so much bigger than her, she could feel his rock hard muscles flex and tighten as she struggled futilely. With her back held to his chest and her arms caught, she did the only thing she could think of. She bit down on the meaty part of her attacker's hand, tasting warm, coppery liquid on her tongue. He muttered a curse letting her go instantly. She stumbled forward, quickly got her bearings and lunged for the rolling pin that lay next to Orana's pie, whirling on her assailant.

"Maker's sake lass did ye' have tae' bite mah'?" Gabriel's brogue cracked indignantly, as he cradled his wounded hand to his chest. She scanned the kitchen, Anders sat a top the counter laughing and eating Orana's pie filling as he watched the scene before him unravel. As quiet as bloody ninjas, the two had become!

"Andy, you know Orana will skin you alive and make mage earrings from your leather, if she sees you digging your grubby paws in her filling." Marian said dropping the rolling pin. The blonde mage simply dazzled her with a toothy grin, then offered her his spoon, heaped with the delicious apple, cinnamon filling. Marian huffed at him, but took the loaded spoon; a girl needed her strength. The apple, cinnamon combination had her mouth dancing with flavor. She closed her eyes in simple bliss, before slowly pulling the spoon out and over her still plumped, cherry lips. Being sure to suck the entire extraordinary filling off of the smooth metal, not wanting to waste a single bit. When she opened her eyes again both men were staring at her with darkened gazes. Turquoise eyes pinned her with white, hot desire. Gabriel's body had stiffened, the muscles in his neck visibly pulled as taut as the bowstring he carried on his back. The look he gave her made Marian's skin prickle and her hackles stand on end. Gabriel was a good friend, but the man's intensity scared the piss out of her. His dark predatory gaze made her nerves twitch and her magic crackle in ready defense.

Anders on the other hand, was simply watching her mouth knowingly. He'd been there, his thick member, the spoon once upon a time. They didn't last of course, though out of all her lovers he'd been the only one she'd legitimately wanted it to work with. And she had tried… THEY tried, but to Marian's dismay, his hands were too soft, his eyes not the color that haunted her dreams. He was blonde and thin, where he should have been brunette and built like a grand oak and his accent, though beautiful, wasn't the deep spine tingling brogue it should have been. She found herself constantly comparing him to a ghost. Anders wasn't a stupid man; eventually he'd confronted her about her "ghosts," in their bedchamber as she sat on the edge of their windowsill. Anders had begged her to love him. He believed she mourned Lloyd, had no clue her deep-set passion was for a rogue prince.

"_Your thinking about him again aren't you, Mari?"_ Anders whispered ever so softly, leaning against the wall beside her. Instead of looking at him she'd simply continued to look out the window from her perch, watching the lovers kissing below her window. Furiously, he had grabbed her arms in a bruising grip, yanking her to her feet, frustration lining his face. _"You know I'd fight for you. But how can I fight someone who isn't even there?"_ The question had been a desperate plea. _"Mari look at me!"_ His anger evident in the way he shook her small frame, Justice breaching the surface. She'd done as he had asked though; dazed by his roughness _"I've had the rest of you, now I want the best of you. I won't contin… I can't continue to accept half."_ His golden gaze had burned into…

_"That's not fair Anders."_ Marian had started pitifully.

_"Not Fair? I don't care if it's not fair Mari!"_

_"What do you want from me Anders? I'm with you what more can I possibly give you?" __Her temper had started to flare, eyes brimming with unshed tears_

_"I want it all or nothing at all. I can't and won't chase a ghost, he'll win every time!"_ By his last words his temper had dissipated, unsteady hands falling from her to his sides.

They had stood in a strange, knowing silence for what seemed an eternity after that, neither really wanting to be the first to move, but both knowing that when one did it would mark the end. Anders had eventually moved first, turning from her, softly padding out of their bedchamber not another word spoken. Words hadn't been needed, they were over and both had known it.

Blinking once, twice, three times, Marian came back to her kitchen, leaving the memory behind, she straightened her robes and smoothed her curls once more. Placing her hands on her hips, she pinned Gabe with the best-annoyed look she could muster. "Did you have to scare me half to death? With everything else that's going on around here, I don't need you two prowling about my kitchen like some sort of desperados!" He scowled at her, then down at his still bleeding palm.

" Ah' didnae' want ye' tae' scream an' raise a fuss that was all. Did ye' know yer' yards full O' those Templar bastards?"

"They're in my yard, my attic and my best bed chambers." She said with disgust. Sighing she relented her anger. Moving to him, Marian grabbed his wounded hand. He growled at her a little. "Oh don't be such a big baby, Vael!" she joked a little uneasy at the sounds he made at her. He began to take his bear sized paw from her "Stop squirming and let me see." She shushed him, standing her ground and grabbing it back. Slowly she hovered her hand a breath away from his, allowing healing waves to swim between them, knitting the bite marks together to stop the bleeding, then making them disappear all together. "See, Not even a scar!" She twisted his hand this way and that, so both Anders and Gabriel could gaze upon her perfection.

"Ohhh, Hawke! Where did this magical prowess of yours come from?" Anders mused around mouthfuls of the pie filling he was still indulging in. When she looked towards him he winked at her. Another toothy grin gracing his lush mouth, now deliciously covered in pie filling, making his already kissable lips simply beckon her to taste him. She couldn't help but smile back, reining in her insatiable libido. Anders of course had been the one to train her in healing magic. Though she couldn't pull a man from the brink of death, she could keep him alive until Anders came.

"They probably have tents set up on my dear Roses roof." Marian said with a pout, working her way back to the original reason both men came to the Rose. She looked up into Gabriel's intense eyes. Biting her bottom lip nervously, she wondered whether she should inform them that another Vael had come to Kirkwall. She didn't know how Gabe would act, if he found out his only living family, would also be standing opposite him, if…When this inquiry came to war.

"What is it Mari? Ye've that look about ye' and yer' biting yer' lip raw, what plagues ye' lass?" He held her chin in his calloused hand, searching her face for the answer. She couldn't lie, he'd find out sooner or later anyways.

"Gabriel, Sebast—" She paused, not wanting it to seem like she was too familiar with the younger Vael.

Though she'd known Gabriel for years. He'd never made the connection between Marian Hawke and the nervous serving maid she'd been in Redcliffe, and she had no intention of him learning it now. "Your brother leads one of the Divine's regiments, he's their Knight-Commander." She dropped her eyes to the hand she'd just healed. He let go of her face, slipped his hand from hers, stepping away from her and to the window that looked out into her yard.

"So it's true then? It is Sebastian."

"Yes, I wouldn't have sent word to you if it wasn't. There is you know a family resemblance.

"Aye nah' doubt O' that. Even though Sebastian's a traitor, his face still marks him a Vael." He moved toward the closest chair, as if his legs could no longer hold him up, he slumped heavily down onto the polished wood. Anders moved toward the table also, taking one of the chairs, his face a passive mask. She watched both men looking them over closely, both looked so tired, so gaunt as if the weight of the world lay upon them alone. She wondered how they ever managed to stand up shouldering that kind of weight.

"You know Gabriel we're the traitors, at least that's what he believes. We turned our backs on the chantry and it's Circle, we started this." He shook his head wearily, his hollowed, sleepless eyes looked to her as if she could give him answers, but she had none he'd like.

"Sebastian would nae' say that if he'd been here in Kirkwall. If he'd witnessed the tyranny Meredith and her Templars partook in. He'd understand why drastic measures were needed. Mages an' people simply suspected O' being mages were slain in the streets, made into examples for Maker's sake!" He slammed his fist upon the kitchen table, making both Marian and Anders jump at the sudden outburst.

"I know that Gabe I was here, I fought the war beside you. We all did! But Sebastian wasn't here, he didn't see it, and he's so diluted by the chantry and it's preaching, he'd never believe it, even if he had witnessed it. The only loyalty your brother has now, is to that blasted Templar shield!"

"Then they've poisoned him against his own people, perhaps the lyrium has played with his judgment. Ah' can nae' believe—" She shook her head, stopping him in his attempt to explain his brother's reasoning.

"There is no lyrium running through his veins, I would have sensed it Gabe. Sebastian works on his own judgment. Two minutes in your brothers company and you'd see for yourself he's not the man you remember him as. Instead he's the worst kind of arrogant Templar officer. He doesn't care a fig for what happens to you, or me, or anyone that doesn't follow his chantry's old, outdated ways of thinking!" Her personal dislike for the Knight-Commander started to leak into her voice, though Gabriel hadn't noticed, too busy brooding in his own thoughts, but Anders was watching her, his golden eyes shining with curiosity. Marian would have to get her emotions back under control if she planned on keeping her secret from her friends.

She turned her gaze back to the stoic Vael. His face suddenly hardened, the indentations on either side of his mouth seemed to carve deeper. "Then we'll have tae' treat him with the same high regard will we nae'?" He leaned in closer to Marian lowering his voice, forcing Anders to lean in too if he wanted to be apart of the conspiracy. "At least he's under yer' roof, where he can be watched. While he's here Hawke, Ah' want ye' tae' watch him, listen tae' his conversations, read his messages if ye' can, note who comes in and out O' the Rose tae' see him. Yer' exactly the type of woman he's drawn tae', charm him into telling you his secrets, then report them back tae' me."

She stumbled back as if he had struck her. She hadn't expected Gabriel to do this. She certainly didn't want to, not even a little bit. Charm Sebastian Vael? No she wouldn't.

"I can't Gabriel." She stammered eyes wide. As she backed further away from him, Anders stood crossing the room to her side. He rested his arm across her shoulder blades, dragging her body under his arm and into his side, comforting her.

"It's ok Hawke, you don't have to. It was simply an idea, a silly one at that." Anders soothed; the stubble on his chin, rubbing her temple where it rested.

Gabriel however didn't relent. "Ye' can Marian and ye' will." He pushed firmly. "Ye'll' have chances tae' be around him that nae' one else will get. If we intend tae' keep Kirkwall free, we have tae' remain a step ahead O' this invasion. Sebastian is that chance. It's really nae' that much tae' ask. Think O' the men and woman who have an' will risk their lives for this call for freedom, a cause both ye' and Anders started."

He had no idea what he asked. Once already Sebastian had been close to remembering who she was. How long in his presence would it take, for him to finally figure out were she lay in his past, bringing her wobbly house of playing cards crashing down?

"You have no idea what you're asking of me Gabriel." She sighed miserably, unable to explain. "I can't-" Gabriel's eyes narrowed on her making her knees shake slightly.

"Ye' will lass!" The harsh edge in his voice, made both her and Anders stiffen, apparently she wasn't the only one unnerved by Gabriel. This was the other side of the Vael's, the ruthless, violent side that she'd heard whispered about among the men that frequented her tavern, but that she'd only ever once seen so very long ago. This was the side that kept the Vael's fortunes well off, a side that was now turned on her.

Her shoulders drooped; she rubbed the locket around her neck her daughter's beautiful face danced through her mind. For Nova's sake she didn't want to do as Gabriel asked, but she knew for Nova's sake too she'd have to.

"Fine Gabe." She sighed "But I'll send any news to you, it's too dangerous for you to be stalking around my tavern with so many Templar's underfoot.

"Ye' should know better than anyone Marian, that war is dangerous. Ah' could have scurried off, my children in toe with the others when word arrived that the Templar's were coming, but Ah' stayed. Ah' decided that Ah' would do all Ah' could tae' put down this Templar threat."

"I wish you had fled." Marian said wistfully. "You and I both know it's what Maria would have wanted." Gabe's face tightened with pain, as it often did when his pretty, young wife was brought up. Maria had been an apostate living free in Kirkwall; when they'd met, fell in love and had three lovely babes. They had lived charmed, for a time. But Kirkwall had been a harsh place for an apostate status didn't much matter. A tyrannical Templar struck down sweet Maria when she refused his advances. He accused her of being a blood mage, and then plunged his broad sword directly through her heart. Maria accused of blood magic? It had of course been a ridiculous notion to anyone who knew the pretty blonde. She'd faint dead away at the sight of someone else's blood, let alone her own. Ser Karras, the Templar who took the life of Maria and in turn the soul of Gabriel, was given a ceremony, as well as a metal of bravery in the gallows, the same day Gabriel held his wife's funeral. That had been the Kirkwall they were living in, what they fought against. Marian knew the stakes; now that Kirkwall was free she knew the battle had only just begun.

"Maria wished for many things Hawke." Was Gabriel's stark response.

"This is one wish you could give her Gabe." Marian urged gently. "Listen all I'm saying is we have to be careful, your brother, Sebastian, isn't a man to be taken lightly." His face relaxed and warmed

"Ye' take care too, sweet lass. Ah' know what Ah' am asking O' ye' will be hard, an' what it must cost ye'. Ye're the most kindhearted woman Ah' know an' here Ah' am trying tae' turn ye' into a low, sneaking spy." A rueful smile curled his lips.

She smiled a bleak, hollow smile in return. He had no idea what he asked, and Gods willing, he never would. As for being low and sneaking, she'd crossed that boundary long ago. "It won't be that hard for me Gabriel." She said softly "I'm wonderfully good at keeping secrets."


	5. Chapter 5

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Five_

Sebastian stepped out of the cozy tavern and was greeted by the biting cold of a Kirkwall afternoon. It would seem the Lady Hawke, wasn't exaggerating, when she'd told him he and his men would be lingering in a perpetual state of freezing on this campaign. When his teeth started chattering of their own volition he pulled his white, wool lined cloak tighter around his shoulders. As if to spite him the wind picked up, sending another blast of icy, cold straight through the useless dragon bone he wore.

"_Maker,_" Sebastian thought bitterly. He hadn't remembered Kirkwall to be this damned cold. As a young man, he'd been to the city only a handful of times with his brothers. Though they never saw much of it, instead choosing to spend there days in the brothel and nights drinking the poor man's swill offered in the Hanged Man. The booze never mattered it was the sport they went to the filthy tavern for, not once had they ever found themselves left disappointed. They'd simply have to walk in and sit down to provoke a man…_ "Or ten."_ He thought to himself, with an inward smirk. The air of money seemed to swirl around the Vaels, making them universally scorned by drunken men, deeply endowed with beautiful woman and had kept them entertained regularly. They'd always returned to Starkhaven, with a new scar and incredible story, after a weeks end in Kirkwall.

Breathing the crisp, chilly air deep into his lungs, he smoothed back his thick, brown locks, placing his helm upon his head, all the while feeling her eyes burning their frozen grey daggers into his back, how he knew it was her? He couldn't say. However, he didn't bother indulging the rigid Lady Hawke, with a look over his shoulder. If she wanted to scorn him, for his Templar status that was her choice. He was more than certain he'd be scorched repeatedly with the same hate filled eyes, by more people then just the young tavern-keep. Being popular was a fancy better left behind once one joined the Templar ranks. Being spit at and taunted were everyday occurrences when one bore the burning swords of Andraste. Of course, that was until an abomination reared it's ugly head, then the same people who'd mocked the order, would beg at the very boots they once spat upon.

Sebastian sighed deeply, the weighty thoughts; on top of the cold were gaining momentum on dampening his already agitated mood. He turned weary eyes, to his left, to the Knight-Corporal, that was nervously shifting from foot to foot. The younger man wore signs that he too, was affected by the cold, his lips were bluing slightly, a stark contrast to his red, wind beaten cheeks.

"Blasted woman was right indeed!" Sebastian muttered under his breath. They'd all be fighting pneumonia at this rate! "I suppose we shouldn't keep the Knight-Vigilant waiting any longer. Cullen isn't known for his patience. Besides I'd walk into a High Dragons den, if it meant getting out of this cold." Sebastian said, rubbing his hands together, then blowing on them. Hoping between the friction and heat of his breath, they'd warm up enough that he could bend his fingers. "What do you say Knight-Corporal? Where can I find his grace?" He asked the younger man, trying to keep his voice mild. Sebastian had unfairly given his Corporal a far bit of grief already. His ire at the younger man, had acted as a balm for his bruised ego, but had not been a shining example of the mercy and compassion Divine Justinia preached. She'd be unhappy, with the childish way her Knight-Commander, had been acting, and the thought shamed him.

Knight-Corporal Keran turned out to be a good man. On the walk to the abandoned mansion Cullen commandeered, Sebastian learned much about the young Templar, before the Divine called upon Keran, to join the elite in Orlais, he'd been a citizen of Kirkwall. When given the option to better his station, he'd taken it only to provide better for his sister Macha, who still resided just on the outskirts of the city limits. The prospect of seeing his sister after so many years, seemed to make the young man float off the ground with excitement. And though it was a sin, Sebastian couldn't help, but feel jealous. He no longer had the privilege of being swept up in his own family. He could still vividly picture his brothers in their fathers study, going over the next harvest. A harvest that would of course be nothing less than fruitful under Gabriel's strong hands and keen eye. His mum would be preparing her famous, fish and egg pie in the kitchen. With fresh fish his father had caught earlier that day. The pies succulent aroma would fill the entire castle and everyone would be at the table before the Chantry bells had a chance to toll for supper. Maker even his father's disappointed glares and poisoned barbs, would be welcomed, if only Sebastian could call those precious moments his to experience in the flesh just once more. He had yet to find the secret to having his wishes granted though. His family wouldn't be coming back. The Vael's had been murdered, right down to the smallest babe, while he was away serving the chantry in Orlais. They were at the Makers side and the thought hadn't done much to comfort his stricken mind.

When word had arrived to Sebastian of his family's misfortune, he had lingered in a state of denial not wanting to believe every person he loved was simply gone. However, after months of his letters returning to him without answer his denial had swiftly been replaced by a dark vengeful grief. A deep lesion that had planted itself in his very core, and festered, poisoning his heart and mind. When the "Vael beast" that dwelled within was no longer sated with the promise of his family being at peace, it started clawing, barking at him to find the guilty, and bring them to justice, he'd immediately started digging. Stumbling upon a missive about a mercenary group that worked out of Kirkwall called Flint Company, his blood had run cold. They had slaughtered his family, how he knew Flint Company was his family's murders he didn't know, it hadn't mattered. He'd been certain the Merc group, had the blood of the Vael's on their hands and it was his duty to make sure every last Flint member, had it burned off in the fires of the black pits for eternity. He'd sent a carrier raven from Orlais, to Kirkwall with a bounty for every last head that wore the Flint Company crest. To his surprise, not a week after the bounty had went out, a pure, white hawk, landed upon the doorstep of his small home, carrying fifty-three blood soaked Flint crests, in its sharp talons, along with a note. When he'd pulled the note from the great birds talons, he'd opened it only to find a simple "_your welcome." _Scribbled on golden paper, it had been curious… Unsettling even. He had offered a bounty, but the angel of death hadn't left a name, or a place for him to send the gold that was offered. They'd given him a gift for which he couldn't pay for, because they hadn't allowed it.

Sebastian had pondered for a long while who his angel of justice was. He had exhausted every resource he could, to find out who'd helped him in his time of need and came up completely empty handed. Eventually letting it go, justice had been handed down, that's what mattered, right? It hadn't been merciful, nor pretty as the chantry would have wanted it to be, but when had true justice ever been a merciful entity?

When Sebastian had finally been able to see past the red haze that dogged him, he realized he'd fallen far from grace. Needing to know the calm the chantry blessed him with again; he refocused every effort back on his calling. With great amounts of penance and charity, the Divine had forgiven him for his dismissal of the Maker. _"Sebastian, for your soul dear child, I pray the Maker is as forgiving as I." _She had said. Before giving him back the pendent of the sun that marked him as one of her flock_._

So enraptured by his ghosts, Sebastian hadn't noticed Keran stopped walking, or that a warrior woman, in full guard armor stood in front of him, her arms crossed over her Iridium plated chest, until they were nearly nose to nose. Taking a surprised step back, Sebastian allowed his eyes to wander, over the impressive force the woman in front of him cut. She was built better than most of his men, standing only a few inches shorter than him. Her stern freckled face and rigid posture, gave her an impressive air of authority. Her beautiful ginger hair, was adorned with a practical braid of twine, which sat along her forehead. Keeping stray hairs from lush, deep-set, feminine green eyes that reminded him of Starkhaven's blooming meadows in spring. This warrioress was yet another Kirkwall beauty. Though she didn't carry the same exotic posturing the woman in Orlais did, or the feminine elegance of the fine Lady Hawke, he found himself entranced by her all the same. She could surely make a man's heart pound with anticipation, or stop dead with blunt force.

Looking her over once more he straightened himself. "Knight-Commander Sebastian Vael, of the Divine's Royal Elite Army." Sebastian extended his hand to the woman; much to his surprise, she obliged him capturing his offered hand in a firm shake.

"Aveline Hendyr, Captain of Kirkwall's City Guard."

Sebastian inclined his head to her in a slight bow, a well-practiced smile upon his face. "Aveline." He said, her name rolling off his tongue like a smooth caress. That only seemed to make the women bristle.

She slipped her gauntleted hand away from his, with all the poise of an angry bull. What he'd done to cause such distress? He didn't know. Smiling at the women of Kirkwall was becoming an occupational hazard.

The captain closed her eyes tight, pinching the bridge of her strong nose, between her thumb and index finger. She let out a great sigh, puffs of frozen air trailing from her thin lips. "Bloody Orleasians! I should have expected Ser Aveline would be the first thought, whenever I gave my name." She said more to herself than him. Opening her mint, meadow eyes she pinned Sebastian with a cautious gaze, dropping one hand to the hilt of her sword and the other to her side. "My father named me." She said sheepishly. "I grew up wanting to be a knight, just like your Ser Aveline. Until I got older and realized, I had no clue who Ser Aveline was supposed to be me other than a wish made by a desperate man." Sebastian watched closely as she spoke. Her speech was well practiced. It was clear to him that her name was quite a burden and it amazed Sebastian how fragile the tough warrior suddenly seemed. " Now that my name sake has been dissected and your wondrous Ser Aveline remembered we can move on. Yes?"

He'd unintentionally hit a soft spot in the Captain, by simply saying her name? "_Interesting."_ "Actually, Captain, I was simply going to remark how beautiful and suiting the name is to the woman who wields it. You see I reside in Orlais, it's true, but I come from Starkhaven and in all the ages I've lived in Orlais, I've only ever heard whispers of Ser Aveline." He tapped his stubbled chin thoughtfully, his turquoise orbs running over her again. "Though if she was half as beautiful as you, it's a wonder any man could have raised his sword upon her." Aveline's wind, kissed cheeks colored a deeper shade of pink, her face softening a measure. Clearly Sebastian hadn't lost his touch with the opposite sex, after all. Perhaps then the Lady Hawke was immune to his charms?

Aveline relaxed her defensive posture, dropping her hand from the diamond-encrusted hilt, of her sword. "If you have some time Knight-Commander, I'd like to have words with you." Her voice was like honey, with just a slight hint of an accent, Ferelden if he wasn't mistaken. A Ferelden woman who made Guard Captain, in an incredibly biased Kirkwall! Lady Aveline was a stunning lass and a bloody enigma.

"Sorry Captain." Keran spoke, when Sebastian hadn't made an attempt to. "But Knight-Commander Vael has other matters to attend to. We could book an appointment for later today, or tomorrow at the latest?" Aveline's face tightened, annoyance creasing her brow.

"It's ok Keran. I seem to have forgotten my gloves back at the Inn. I dare say strumming a bow, with frost bitten hands would likely be near impossible. Captain Hendyr, if you'd accompany me back to The Rose, we could talk on the way?" He looked towards Keran. "Knight-Corporal you're dismissed. Go spend time with Macha while you can. The Captain of the guard is by my side, I'm sure I'll be well protected."

"Knight-Commander! Were supposed to b-."

"I said dismissed Corporal." Sebastian spat, with more venom than intended, but for Keran to question a direct order, from his superior was unacceptable. Especially in front of the cities guard. Briskly, Sebastian turned from the retreating Corporal, back to the Guard Captain. "Shall we?" He asked, extending his elbow to Aveline. Fully expecting she'd refuse such gentry. Again she surprised him, giving him a warm smile, then looping her arm into his. Together they began the walk back, through the snowy cobble stoned city to the pretty Rose. "Now Captain Hendyr, what would you like to speak with me about? Are my men already causing you trouble?" The throaty laugh she gave him was pleasant to his ears, her voice husky when she spoke.

"Knight-Commander. When word arrived, you and your men where venturing to our fine city, the snowball effect of trouble started. Fear and uncertainty make people do crazy things I'm afraid."

"A pity, that people fear us so readily then Captain."

"Indeed." She agreed solemnly. "To lay your question to rest. No your men haven't yet caused any grief, but the day is still young." Her entrancing laugh bubbled up again, at the annoyed look he shot her. "Jokes, Knight-Commander, just jokes." She raised both her arms up in surrender, before smiling and looping her arm back into his. "I wanted simply to inform you. The guard will be standing with the city and her Viscount, if Divine Justinia's convenient "Inquiry," becomes more. We proudly stand as Kirkwall's first line of defense." She said, her tone seeping with pride. "I suspected the Guard standing with it's city would be obvious, but already your Knight-Vigilant has laid a request upon my desk for the our support. I'm telling you the same thing I told him. The Black City, will have to freeze over, before the guard stands with the Templars."

"Ms. Hendyr-."

"Mrs." She corrected quickly.

"Of course." Sebastian paused, clearing his throat. "The man who captured you is very lucky then, Mrs.," Sebastian emphasized. "Hendyr." Shooting her another electric smile, fully enjoying the spattering of pretty, pink across her cheeks once more.

"No Knight-Commander, I believe myself to be the lucky one." Her small lips turned up into a dreamy smile.

"Mrs. Hendyr you seem a wise, well grounded woman. You'd have to be as Captain of the Guard. Certainly, you see the dangers a free city poses for everyone? Especially for the mages who wish so vehemently for it to be so, there's already an Imperium. We're here to be sure Kirkwall doesn't fall prey to the seductive whispers of the Black Divine, like Tevinter did. We, the Elite, are truly the first line of defense Kirkwall has. Aveline's lush, green gaze bore into Sebastian, making his body twitch under the scrutiny. She watched him closely, as if with just a look she could see into the deepest parts of his soul. Trying to forge whether he was benevolent in his motives, or if he'd picked up the crest of the Maker to torture the people he was meant to protect. Sebastian stayed quiet, while she measured his worth. He believed in the chantry and it's Templars. Mages needed to be in the circle, safe from the world and themselves. But that didn't mean they lost their right to humane handling, as Andraste would demand. He wasn't a power hungry masochist; if she were as insightful as he felt she was, she'd certainly see that.

Aveline's gaze dropped from his form, to their booted feet. "You know at one time Knight-Commander, I agreed with you fully. To some degree I still do." She paused licking her chapped lips.

"But, not when it comes to Kirkwall?" Sebastian finished for her, filling in the sudden silence. "You must see the hypocrisy in that?" Her light, knowing laugh, was completely unlike the sultry, throaty one she'd gifted him with previously, and proof she saw the hypocritical holes.

"I understand your doubts, Messere. Trust me, when I say I've weighed the decisions, I've made very carefully." Aveline hesitated. Her metal clad fingers smoothing over Sebastian's forearm, while she silently pondered what she'd say next. "Listen, the entire year Kirkwall has been free of her chains, our Viscount hasn't asked for anything, but peace. There have been no attempts to further alter the balance of power. No attempts at spreading the freedom outside of Kirkwall. Hawke's been-."

"Hawke?" Sebastian interrupted. "As in Lady Hawke?" He asked.

"No, does Marian seem the type?" Aveline joked, though Sebastian caught the nervous hitch in her voice and found it strange how she suddenly avoided his eyes, keeping them firmly locked on their snowy boots.

"So then the Viscount is Lady Hawke's husband?" Sebastian pushed.

"Oh! Maker NO!" Aveline said in hushed tones, a scandalized look upon her face.

"Carver Hawke, is Marian's younger brother, Knight-Commander and he resides in the seat of Viscount." With Sebastian's interest tweaked, he wanted to prod the Captain further. There was clearly something more to the Hawke siblings, but he could feel the sudden tension that surrounded them. Silence hung in the air for several minutes, settling like a thick blanket of fog, before Aveline finally continued. "Carver Hawke has been a fair and just ruler. He's been able to grant mercy were it's due. Punishment's that are worthy of their crimes when necessary and he stays entirely neutral in the mighty Mage, Templar debate, preferring to see both sides and make his decisions accordingly."

"His sister is a mage. She's quite proud and open with that fact." Sebastian pointed out. "

"His sister is a mage. She's quite proud and open with that fact." Sebastian pointed out. "You mean to tell me, Carver would go against his sister? That he doesn't have a bias in this argument?" Aveline halted abruptly in front of the rebuilt Chantry. Sebastian watched her curiously, as she looked between the grand structure to him and back again. \

"The Hawke's aren't devout Andrasten's." Sebastian raised his brow in confusion.

"Captain, how does the Hawke's, turning their backs to the Maker help their case?" Aveline looked to him, than again set her eyes upon the Chantry.

"I suspect it doesn't. Though if you had patience Commander, I was going to say that, though they're not partial to the Maker, they still felt it their duty to sink thousands of their own personal funds into resurrecting the ruins of his holy place. By doing so they've shown that we don't all have to agree to live in peace. So yes, I think someone else leading Kirkwall into emancipation from the Circle, would be disastrous. But Hawke isn't someone else. He's a strong leader, who seeks peace where most would seek power."

"Yet in the past six years, the city has been thrust into one war, after the other, and Hawke… Your Champion; has been directly in the center of them all." Sebastian kept his tone mild. He respected this Aveline; she stood bold where most would cower from him. He didn't want her to see him as a thick fool.

"The problems Kirkwall has faced were hardly wars, Knight-Commander. Though without Hawke, they would have been. I was here when the Qunari became a threat. I watched every avenue taken to diffuse the situation. I was part of the sleepless nights and long days. We traveled tirelessly, from the Wounded Coast, all the way to Sundermount and back, to stop the storm that brewed. But fate had dealt the blood-soaked deck of cards, the day the Qunari landed. Nobody not even your Divine could have stopped the bloodshed." She sighed, the grip of her gauntlet tightening around Sebastian's arm. He understood the toll such bloodshed took on a person, he felt for the Captain.

"For what it's worth, I am truly sorry for the loss of so many." And he meant it.

"Thank you, Knight-Commander." Aveline smiled up at him, her hand going soft once more. "You know, I was in the Qunari Compound the day the Arishok deemed indoctrination necessary. For the first time in my entire life I felt real fear, but Hawke refused to back down. He was still certain, even with the spears the Qunari were launching at us, that a peaceful solution could still be met. I physically had to drag him out of the compound, before he'd leave." Again silence fell between them. Sebastian listened to the birds singing overhead, as he contemplated her words. The sounds of merchants hawking their wares signaled the markets had finally come alive. He watched, citizens politely bow to Aveline with good day affections, as they went about their business. Most of them ignored his presences, while others burned him with icy gazes and hate filled slurs.

Stopping in front of the Roses steps, she gracefully unhooked her arm from his turning to face him. Aveline grabbed his forearms in her firm grip. "Sebastian, listen to me," her boldness at using his name and not his title made him smile. "Every fight Kirkwall has been apart of, have been pushed upon us by other's hands. If you and your men attack us, the streets will run in blood again, your blood and mine, I can guarantee that. You've been allowed to land peacefully, not a single one of your men lost their lives. That never would have happened, if you'd been landing in Tevinter, you know that, as well as I do. It should be proof enough, that Kirkwall will not be the Black City. Don't take the lives of innocent people, because Divine Justinia is scared!" Aveline's gauntleted hands, slid off the smooth dragon bone of his armor, her eyes turning to the Templar's guarding the Roses doors. "I bet Marian is overjoyed with her Templar guests?" She asked, with sarcasm clear in her tone.

"Aye Guard-Captain! She was so pleased with my presence in fact, that on taking her leave of me, I believe her exact words were. "_Good day to you, Knight-Commander. May the Black Divine taint your Templar soul in the black pits you deserve!"_ Sebastian mimicked, the frigid Lady Hawke the best he could. Aveline stared at him, her mortification clear.

"She did not say that! Did she?!" The ginger woman, questioned horror sparkling in her green jewels.

"Aye, she did, but you needn't fret over it. I've had worse said to me, mind you never by such a stunning lady as Mrs. Hawke, but there is a first time for everything I suppose."

"Trust me Knight-Commander, though Marian can be furiously sharp tongued, she's actually a very sensible, sweet woman with a heart of gold."

"I don't fault her hostility. She's a mage, I'm a Templar. Life dictates that we oppose each other, but I do hope I see her golden side you speak so fondly of." Sebastian chuckled deeply, doubting he'd ever see the blasted rebel warm to him. "Guard-Captain, if you'd give me a moment to fetch my gloves, I'd very much like to continue this conversation. Could you spare more of your time in my company?" He asked. Aveline nodded her approval. While folding her hands behind her back, posturing herself in a regal guards stance."

**7-7-7 **

"**HAWKEEEE!**" Marian heard Aveline's booming voice, she could almost feel it reverberate off the Rose's walls. The Captain's tone could only mean Hawke had done something to irk her dear friend.

"_Shit_." Her mind sighed. Donnic had probably told his lovely wife, that she and Varric had been trying to dig secrets of he and Aveline's sexcapades out of him again. She absolutely hated when they did that. "_Andraste's tits!_" All they wanted, was realistic details for Varric's next book. Marian couldn't see what the big deal was.

She made her way to the foyer, knowing exactly what to expect from the Captain. Aveline would have her hands fisted at her sides, with her feet spread wide apart, making herself look more intimidating than she already was. Her face would be tight with anger, but still loving. It was the look that always reminded Hawke, of her dearly departed mum. It was fitting, after all Aveline was her surrogate mother. They were only a few years apart, but Aveline, took care and watched over Marian and Carver, like they were her own. She doted on Nova, like Marian assumed her mom would have, but where Leandra's gifts would've been, ruffled dresses to wear to fancy balls, Aveline gave blunted swords, to train in the barracks with her guardsmen.

Rounding the corner, into the foyer where the Guard-Captain waited, Marian came face to…Gloves? Marian looked in confusion from Aveline's angry face; then back to the black leather gloves the Captain held up.

"Look familiar Hawke?" Aveline asked sharply. Marian again glimpsed the leather bits in the older woman's hand, with wide eyes. This was certainly not what she was expecting. Perhaps Aveline had taken to many smacks to the head recently? _When was the last time she checked in with Anders? _Marianwondered silently still eyeing the raised gloves.

"I've never seen them before in my life Aveline. So I'm completely at a loss why they should be familiar to me, though I must admit, the gold accents them very well." Aveline threw her hands in the air, turning from Marian to pace the small foyer. Every so often she chattered under her breath, picking at the gold on the gloves she still held.

"Captain, you look insane! Are you going to tell me why the gloves are so important? OR," Marian shrieked gleefully, "we could make a game of it! I'll get Isabela!" Try as she might Marian, couldn't hide the amusement that seeped into her voice. It was a rare sight to see Aveline's cool composure crack like this.

"They don't look familiar to you at all? Honestly Hawke, how did you ever manage to escape Templar notice, with such shit perception?"

Marian's amusement immediately began to splinter. The gold should have given the gloves away, Templars loved themselves some gold, but how did she miss Andraste's flaming swords on the palms? "Do you know who's they are Aveline? Where did you find them?" Marian asked calmly. With so many Templars running about the Rose they could belong to anyone, what made these ones so special?

"I found them in front of the lounge door. I suspect them to be Sebastian Vael's."

"_Go bloody figure!" _Sebastian Vael was quickly becoming a massive thorn in her side_._ "How can you be so sure Aveline? Did Justinia stitch his name on the inside tag? I bet she did I hear she's such a sweet old prig!" Marian said, slapping her hands together, holding them to her left cheek while she fluttered her thick eyelashes at Aveline.

"Hawke!" Aveline snarled at Marian's insolence. "Knight-Commander Vael was with me. We stopped at the Rose because he needed his gloves." She waved the leather in Marian's face, as if to emphasize her point. "He went into the Rose absolutely fine. So imagine my shock, when not ten minutes later he's nearly knocking me on my arse trying to get away from your Inn, like the bloody blight was on his tail! But you want to hear the best part Hawke? I of course came in to see, what would cause such a calm man to completely lose himself. Do you know what I found?" The Captain paused, but as Marian opened her mouth to speak Aveline interrupted. "You and that pirate whore rolling about the lounge like two bitches in heat and Sebastian's gloves on the floor, next to the door. Meaning he too, took in the show." Aveline's voice began to crackle, her face and ears turning cherry red, Hawke feared the stressed Captain's head would explode if she got any angrier. What did Aveline have to be mad about? She hadn't been the one spied on. Marian had. She was the one violated. "Find him Hawke! Fix this. Grovel like your life depends upon it. Cause if your transgressions have offended him, it very well might." Aveline tossed the gloves at Marian. "And for the love of all that's holy put on some bloody clothes! It's below zero outside and your flouncing around in next to nothing," Marian could feel Aveline's fiery, gaze running over the barely, there emerald robe she still wore. "Have you no shame?" Aveline asked. But again the angry Guard didn't wait for a response, swiftly turning from Marian, scuffing the hardwood floor, with the heel of her heavy boots. "Fix it now Mari I mean it." Was all she said before leaving the Rose.

"Have you not been cruel enough?" Marian muttered shaking her balled fist toward the ceiling of the little foyer. Her frustration finally bubbling over, she punted the solid oak leg of the foyers registry table. The pain immediately shot up her slippered foot, the vibrations burning a trail of pain up and through her. "Andraste's flaming ass!" Marian hollered hobbling on her uninjured foot, cradling the abused one on her calf. She bounced a complete three-sixty trying to ease the pain, only to turn into the shocked face of the young Corporal that had accompanied Sebastian earlier that day. _"Maker when did he come in?" _

"What are you gawking at?" She snarled, baring her teeth at him, dropping her still throbbing foot. Deftly, to save some of her dignity, she swept up the leather gloves she'd dropped and smoothed her ruffled robe, before brushing past the Corporal who stood like a statue, his wide, blue eyes still set upon her. At least he wasn't the one who'd caught her with her bare ass in the air. If a few curse words had him gaping like a fish out of water, he'd surely never recover from the sight of two women fucking!


	6. Chapter 6

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Six_

"Maker!Damn his curiosity!" Sebastian ached. It was why when he'd heard the soft sobs drifting through the tavern; he'd been unable to stop himself from finding the source. It was why when he'd tracked the wee whimpers to the parlor, he'd peeked in and it was because of his inability to control said curiosity that he now stood in this abandoned alley, a wretched hole that reeked of piss, booze and vomit, sporting a painfully erect cock!

The vision of her scarlet mane as it cascaded freely down her defined, tanned back and the way the ends swept the top of her firm, snow globe bottom, would be burned behind his retina for an eternity. As would the sight of her lithe form, snaking down her mewling lover's body. Her cries! Oh, sweet Divine! His hands shook, had ached for just a touch of her sweat-slicked skin. The way the cinnamon curves glimmered like gold in the light of the hearths glow had mesmerized Sebastian.

"Okay, get a hold of yourself mate, just breath." Sebastian coached. With his hands on his knees and his head bowed low, he closed his eyes, desperately trying to control himself, only to be bombarded by images of the dusky, seductress bend the fine Lady Hawke, over the piano. At the images Sebastian conjured, his engorged organ twitched and swelled, doubling Sebastian over like a punch to the gut. A sick feeling washed through him, he felt as if he'd been kicked squarely between his thighs by a horse. He couldn't meet with the Knight-Vigilant in this state! He could take care of himself… but would it be enough? Sebastian wasn't sure. Even if it were, he certainly couldn't do it in an alley. Maker, if he were caught! He could already hear the laughter, could see the scandal.

Squeezing his eyes tighter he began chanting quietly, not wanting anyone to hear him. "And so is the Golden City blackened." Sebastian managed between each laboured breath. "With each step you take in my Hall," _inhale._ "Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting," _exhale._ "You have brought Sin to Heaven. And doom upon the entire world."

Sebastian couldn't say how many times he'd repeated The Canticle of Threnodies. It was his favourite hymn and part of the last sermon Divine Justinia had seen them off with. She had used it to remind her men to never forget that though Kirkwall may seem at peace, it was closer to the Black City than all believed. Sebastian was certain the Divine would be thoroughly disgusted with his weakness in the eyes of temptation and worse, that her beautiful words were now serving as a balm to cool his wicked libido.

Perhaps the Maker and Justinia could forgive his weakness though? He was but a man after all, who sinned like everyone else. Some days beating the rake he'd been into submission could be a real inner power struggle. Being witness to two beautiful woman making love… No, that hadn't been love that had been fucking, plain and simple. How could any man be witness to such wicked imagery and not be tempted?

Whether Justinia would find his use of her words foul, or not, they were working. His choppy breathing calmed, the hectic pulse that had taken residence in his ears began to quiet. Slower still, his bruised organ recoiled, leaving only a dull ache amidst his thighs. At least he could move in his heavy armor again without excruciating pain. Righting himself, Sebastian stood shifting the white dragon bone he wore. Breathing deep one last time, Sebastian exited the alleyway, with his helmed head held high, hoping he painted the perfect picture of his Knight-Commander status.

"Knight-Commander?" Her sweet voice trickled over him. Sebastian's blood raced back to his nether regions, his knees threatening to buckle from the sudden pressure at his apex. Sighing irritably at this new inability to control himself. Sebastian hung his head, his chin touching the cold bone of his armor. How long had he been in the alley anyways? He wondered, looking towards the setting sun. She rested her little, hand on his shoulder, a bolt of awareness shooting through him at the small contact.

"_Maker,"_ he was like a randy boy. It had, of course, been sometime since he'd bedded a woman, but with Andraste as his witness, until Kirkwall and the pretty gems the city seemed to hold, he hadn't felt the need to. His vow of chastity had been amongst one of the easier ones to keep until this blasted city. 

Pulling his head up, Sebastian turned to meet her sparkling eyes and sinful curves. His traitorous body responded. Instantly every muscle tightened at the sight of her. The robe she wore was pure white, the bodice a corset made of silk. Unlike the previous emerald slip she had donned, this one kept her completely covered from the neck down, but it sat so tight around her that he could see the little buds of her generous breasts, jutting out toward him, beckoning him. Maker! Have mercy on him, no breast band! Licking his chapped lips, Sebastian could taste the saltiness of the cold sweat that had broken over his upper lip. His gaze slid down to the skirt of her virginal dress. Finding more skin tight silk that hugged her lushly, plumped hips, and then flared out hitting the snowy cobblestoned street. An intricate, purple pattern of hawk flew from the bottom right side of the skirt, its head rested upon her hip. The great beast's wings wrapped around the front and back in a sweet embrace. Her lavish cloak was the same deep purple as the detailed hawk on her skirt and was fastened at her slender neck with a sparkling crystal jewel. Its hood framed her round face loosely, allowing pieces of her beautiful hair to tumble out from beneath. The breeze gently blew her fiery curls here and there

"Knight-Commander?" She asked, waving her gloved hand in front of his face. Sebastian blinked furiously attempting to clear the fog from his head.

"Lady Hawke." He greeted politely, if only a tad shaky. "Is something wrong? My men." He reached, trying to get his brain to translate even an ounce of tangible thoughts "have they-"

"No, nothing's wrong Serha." She waved away Sebastian's questions studying him with her inquisitive, gray eyes. "Actually I was looking for you. Aveline, I believe you two have met?"

"Aye ma'am, the guards' woman." Sebastian inclined his head slightly.

"Our guards-CAPTAIN." The strict lady emphasized. "Aveline would bury you up to your neck and stone you to death, if she heard you calling her anything less… And yes, her. She found your gloves at the Inn and asked if I'd return them to you." The petite mage held up Sebastian's riding gloves for his inspection. His racing heart stopped dead, cowering in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't even realized he'd lost them. Maker, where had the Guard-Captain found them? Had Aveline seen what he had? The better question was did Lady Hawke know he'd spied on her and her lover? If she did she was very good at hiding it. If she didn't, Sebastian wasn't about to out himself and if she did and preferred to dance around it, then he was more than happy to tango with her.

"Aye Lady Hawke, I do believe your Guard-Captain to be right. They are mine and I'm glad to see them, I've been looking everywhere!"

"Even in dangerous alleyways apparently." She snickered. The sound of it was infectiously sweet, like a siren's call. Her warm smile so different, from the icy wall of a woman he'd met only hours earlier. She closed the gap between them handing Sebastian his gloves. When the wind picked up around them, stray, scarlet tendrils caressed his face, making Sebastian painfully aware of how close they were. Her silky curls smelled of vanilla musk and jasmine, spiced with burnt caramel. Heady and mysterious like the woman it lingered on, a hypnotic poison to his already cracked senses.

"Thank ye'." He whispered. His brogue was foreign. His ears pulsed, his throat went dry. With just her scent his body begged his brain to pin her to the ground, right there in the snowy streets and fuck her, she'd squeal for him, as he ravaged her she'd whine his name beautifully. _"Maker, maybe I am the animal she believes me to be."_ Sebastian shamed himself, his hands shaking with his inner war.

"You're welcome Serha. What kind of hostess would I be if one of my patrons lost their hands to frost bite on my watch?" She winked at him playfully; completely unaware of what she was doing to him. Oblivious to the fact that he was on the lunatic fringe, of the danger he potentially posed to her. Sebastian wished she'd insult him. Her sudden sweetness was only aiding her ability to systematically dismantle him. "Anyways, I'm sure you have much to do with a city full of rebel mages to corral. So with Aveline's request met, I'll take my leave of you." Her curtsy shot another fleeting moment of recognition through him, though much to Sebastian's irritation he couldn't yet recall why. "Good day Commander Vael." She called over her cloaked shoulder. He should let her go, let her leave him to regain his senses. He needed to find the chantry and seek forgiveness for being a man of great weakness in the face of temptation.

But…. He was a very, VERY weak man. He grabbed her upper arm to halt her, and knew he'd made a mistake when he felt her body go rigid under his light touch. Sharply, she yanked away whirling on him, her eyes shifted from dull grey to an unnatural blue, a bizarre, icy glow he hadn't expected. Sebastian backed away from her, not wanting her to feel caged by him. Had she sensed his barbaric inclinations?

"Mrs. Hawke, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." _Idiot! Just let her leave, before you ruin yourself! Tell her good day, and be on your way. _Sebastian's keener mind railed at him. "I only meant to ask, since you seem to know the city so well, if you know where I might find the Knight-Vigilant?" _Damned_ _FOOL!_ "And if I haven't already impeded too much on your hospitality, I'd like to know if you'd accompany me?" He said instead, attempting again, to charm her, a toothy smile curling the corners of his mouth.

"You don't scare me you foolish Templar! I just don't appreciate men who don't understand personal space." She growled at him, but her stone like posture began to relax, the supernatural glow in her eyes dissipating. "You're the Knight-Commander, of this sector, and you have to ask the enemy where to find your own Knight-Vigilant? Oh! That's brilliant!" She mocked, laughing at him, but relented, brushing past him. "Well come on if you're coming. I don't have all day to play tour guide!" Sebastian couldn't help but to smile like a fool boy at her purple, cloaked back before jogging to catch up with her brisk pace.

**7-7-7 **

Marian knew she was acting childish by forcing Sebastian to chase her, but it felt so damned good to know the handsome Vael was struggling for once. That it was because of her that he struggled, only added to Marian's sick delight. She smiled inwardly. Brushing her hand over the spot where he'd grabbed her arm. The jolt of electricity she'd felt, all the way through her cloak and robe had startled her. In an instant she'd been seventeen all over again, except this time she had her magic completely under control. The white, hot electricity between them had nothing to do with magic. It was animalistic, raw…Equal parts erotic and frightening. Frantic, uncertainty had made her nerve endings fire, her body responded with a flood of heat that pooled at the apex betwixt her thighs. When she had turned to face him, she wasn't sure if she'd take him down to the snow and mount him like wanton whore, or if she'd blast him with an ice spike. It had really been up in the air. His charm gave her pause, and Gods, she actually wanted to help the man!

With a sigh she slowed her pace, Sebastian's long strides quickly slowing to match hers. They walked in silence, neither sure what to say to each other. In the absence of distraction, Marian glanced about Hightown's slow, market square. Her blood quickly turned to frozen sludge in her veins, courtesy of the arctic stares she was receiving from the citizens of Hightown. _Oh how it must look to them. _Marian sighed inwardly, their Champion and Viscountess, canoodling with the enemy. _Way to be a leader Hawke._

"You feel the scornful looks too then?" Sebastian asked, as if he'd read her mind.

"How do you want them to look at you, Serha? Do you think they should look to you with devout worship? You're here; you and your men, to take their freedom from under them?" Marian kept her words clipped, her tone diplomatic, not wanting to seem irrational.

"You keep talking about oppression Lady Hawke, but the Divine hasn't sent her faithful here to take your free Kirkwall, we've been sent only to inquire."

"Pfft!" Marian scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. "If you truly believe the Divine has sent you for an inquiry, then you sir are more delusional than I assumed. Look around Messere," She said, sweeping her arm about the market square. It sparkled beautifully, the sun reflecting off all the pure white, Templar armor. "You and I both know four-thousand Templar soldiers, with more set to dock before the weeks out, do NOT spell inquiry. Justinia's fixing to take Kirkwall by force. Don't think me, or the fine people of this city, too simple to see a coming attack, especially when it's so openly tossed in front of us." She paused. Letting her words sink in, watching his brilliant eyes as they scanned the market. "You and your men are scorned, not because you bear the swords of Andraste on your chests, but because you're trying to save people who are happy as they are, and don't want, nor need to be saved!"

To Marian's pleasure, they'd finally made it to the Knight-Vigilant's commandeered mansion. She turned toward Sebastian, watching intently as his eye's locked upon the heavy cedar door in front of them. She heard the whispered curse roll off his tongue, as his arm rose shakily toward the crest engraved into the dark, stained wood.

"Is something wrong, Serha?" She questioned. Knowing full well what it was that had the Knight-Commander shaking as if he'd seen a ghost.

"How? I don't-." He paused looking toward Marian. "The Vael Crest?" He breathed. Beautiful, turquoise eyes searched her for answers.

"Aye, so you know it then?" Marian tried to keep her voice passive, not wanting to reveal how much she knew about the mansion and the bitter man that had once lived with in.

"Know it? Of course I know it! I keep one just like it close to my heart, as a reminder of my family and home." Marian watched, as he brought his big hand to rest over his heart, were she assumed the crest lay. "What I can't figure out is why it's engraved on a door in Kirkwall?" She eyed him skeptically, surely he'd seen the list of rebels to be captured, she had, how could he not have?

"Perhaps a Vael owns this grand mansion?" Feigning disinterest, Marian shrugged as she looked upon the huge stone structure.

"My lady, my family was butchered years ago, right down to the smallest babe. I'm the only remaining Vael and I assure you, as stunning as it is, I do not own this mansion."

"Knight-Commander, I've been living in Kirkwall for a very, VERY long time. So long in fact, I know pretty much every person that resides in the city by name and face." At that moment Marian made her decision, the longing... The hope that flashed in Sebastian's eyes, made it impossible for her to not tell him the truth. "Commander Vael, this house belongs to your kin I assure you of that. Though obviously with your Knight-Vigilant inside, it doesn't any longer. That would be terribly awkward for Gabriel if he did… I assume." She rambled, losing her bravado. Another habit she had when she was nervous.

"Didn't you hear me you daft woman? My family was butchered! Every last one of them!" Just like that, Marian saw red. No one had ever been able to steer Marian's emotions like Sebastian could. His harsh dismissal of her honesty was like the lash of nine-tail whip.

"Why would I need to lie to you, Serha? What would I gain by telling you false information about your family? I know of the tragedy that visited the Vaels. But I assure you Gabriel Vael is alive and well, I've known him as a gentleman and friend." She said, trying to posture her temper, knowing how shocking the information she tossed at him must be.

"_NO!" _Sebastian snarled, before she cut him off with an annoyed wave of her hand.

"Yes! Have you even bothered to go back to Starkhaven, to see the state with which your home is in?" Marian asked. Insulted he thought her a liar.

"I. No I don't. I didn't-"

"Of course you didn't." She spat at him. "You've been so busy saving the world from "rebel" mages; you haven't bothered to check in on the disrepair of your own homeland! If you had, you likely would have learnt your father had gotten wind of the coming attack on your family. He sent Gabriel here to Kirkwall, as a guarantee the Vael line would continue its rule if the inevitable happened." Marian paused, his still skeptical gaze, finally ruptured the restraints she held on her fiery tongue. "Rumor has it you funded Flint Company's demise as revenge for your family Commander Vael? Admirable, but you certainly are not the man you believe yourself to be. If you were, you wouldn't keep yourself hidden behind the Divine's skirts, while your countrymen flounder. Or allow your Knight-Vigilant to hunt for your own brother's head, simply because he's not blinded by the chantry's old fashioned teachings. None of it matters though Commander, you see while you've cowered in your glorious Orlais, the people here in Kirkwall who truly care for Gabriel and his children have made certain they made it out of the city in time. At least now he's safe from you!" Marian was nearly screaming; her rant halted only because of the spectacle she was becoming. Her whole body shook; the magic beneath her skin sparking. _Bloody Templar!_ Her furious mind hissed, pinning Sebastian with her displeased gaze.

**7-7-7 **

Sebastian listened, considering how much of her raving to believe. Being a Templar he'd seen how cunning mages could be at manipulating the emotions of a weak man, with half-truths for their own purposes and the Lady Hawke could be doing exactly that. He'd heard nothing of Gabriel; if his brother were alive he would have sent word to Sebastian. It was inconceivable that a man as intelligent and respected as his brother had allowed himself to be swayed to support treason against the chantry. Gabriel was likely turning in his grave at the accusation. So then the Hawke woman was lying… But what in the Black Divine did she hope to accomplish by doing so?

"If Gabriel is truly alive and well, he and his chil…" Sebastian tried to clear the lump from his throat… He could be an uncle?! "Children would never have reason to fear me." Sebastian said, carefully watching Mrs. Hawke's face. "He would know that, but if you tell me where I could find him, I'll be happy to reassure him myself." Instantly, the brazen mage's face shuttered closed against his probing gaze.

"Forgive me Knight-Commander, but in truth I cannot say."

"Cannot," He asked. "Or will not?" __

"Either one amounts too much the same thing doesn't it?" She smoothed the deep purple hawk with her finger tips, being sure the beast still lay elegantly and unruffled against her hip. "I suppose here is where I'll be taking my leave of you, Serha. I do believe this conversation has face planted hard, into the proverbial brick wall, with your refusal to believe the truth, and your certainty that I'm lying. I don't see a need to stand here and be further insulted by you." Sebastian watched her sweep her gaze to the Vael crest. "I'm sure your Knight-Vigilant, will be plundering great riches from your brother's home. I certainly hope you'll still be able to hold your head so high and mighty, while you watch many of your family's priceless heirlooms taken as souvenirs or simply destroyed. Looking back to Sebastian she curtsied and then turned from him without saying another word. This time he let her go, watching her skirt gently sweep the soft snow. His mind swirled with her bitter tasting words.

"You've done well, Knight-Commander, very well!" said Knight-Vigilant Cullen, as he leaned back in what Sebastian recognized to be his father's favorite chair. Cullen folded his hands over his armored stomach before continuing. "The Wounded Coast was a capital choice. I applaud you for suggesting it. We've taken Kirkwall with incredible ease and left her harbors open for more of our fleet to join us. He chuckled, his brown eyes glancing around the room, past Sebastian, with smug pleasure. "And I ask you Commander, have you ever seen more handsome quarters? A mansion fit for a gentleman. Even for a chantry gentleman eh?"

Sebastian nodded curtly, not trusting himself to say or do more. The mansion the Knight-Vigilant commandeered for his headquarters was the grandest in town as was proper. The pale winter sun filtered through tall windows that were draped with emerald curtains and matched the coverings of the chairs they sat in. The mahogany tea table to his left had a beautiful translucent porcelain tea set lined with gold. His mother's best china filled two tall cupboards that flanked either side of the stone fireplace; its mantle piece was the finest woodwork in Kirkwall. As was the cedar stairway in the front hallway, where candles had already been lit in the polished brass fixtures. Without doubt, the mansion was as fit for the Knight-Vigilant, as it was for Starkhaven's royalty, the best of everything. _As it should be_, Sebastian thought grimily, a_s it must be. _

"Pity to think all this was being wasted on a mage sympathizer," continued Cullen. "Too bad we didn't manage to catch the black rogue eh? I would have packed him off to Val Royeux for trial myself. His name was Vael too. Kin of yours you think?"

"Aye," Sebastian said as evenly as he could. "My brother." Maker, be damned, the Hawke woman had spoken true. How could a man who'd served the chantry with such devout faith as his brother had, a man who'd fought under the flaming swords of Andraste – Now join with rebel mages? Unconsciously Sebastian gripped the curved arm of his chair, struggling to control the emotions that burned hot within him. The Knight-Vigilant's gaze wandered beyond the top of Sebastian's head, his eyes lighting up when they fell upon whatever it was that caught his attention.

"By Andraste! Do you think that fine bow would look good mounted above the mantle in my personal parlor? There's a ship sailing back to Orlais tomorrow. I think that bow; with the ruby crest would be a perfect souvenir in my home, indeed." Sebastian twisted in his chair to look over his shoulder, more to mask his feelings than to actually appraise the bow. It was well known among the other Templar officers, that though Cullen had strict policies against looting, he himself wasn't above helping himself. His sticky fingers were often joked about around the officer's table. But this time when the other men joked, Sebastian wouldn't be among them laughing. Not when it was his grandfather's prized bow being stolen. Damnation if Gabriel left such an important Vael heirloom behind, then that could only mean he'd fled with nothing but the clothes on his back. "Yes I do believe that bow will be the perfect compliment to my parlor." Cullen was saying. Slowly Sebastian turned back in his chair. How the Lady Hawke must be laughing by now. Her shifty gray-blue eyes were probably sparkling with laughter at his expense. She'd been right about his brother, had been right about the Knight-Vigilant and he'd been appallingly wrong about everything. What an arrogant, ignorant fool he must have seemed to her!

Abruptly he shoved back his chair and rose. "I'm certain that bow will make a fine mantle piece." He said with a curt bow. "But if you'll excuse me, Knight-Vigilant, there are many other matters that need my attention." Cullen's brows rose toward the blond curls on top of his head with mild surprise.

"I'd say that such matters are my decision sir, not yours." He waved his hand back toward the chair. "And I say you stay until I dismiss you, unless you find my company suddenly intolerable eh?" It was all the reprimand Sebastian needed. He'd always been known as a mild man, one who kept his temper in check. At least he had been before now. Swiftly he bowed again and sat. Mentally cursing the Lady Hawke who had let him make such a fool of himself. Maybe if she'd been more honest with him. If only she hadn't been so coy, then perhaps-. "You'd do well to watch yourself Vael." Continued Cullen, subtly replacing the good- natured calm in the air, to something harder and sharper. Putting Sebastian on his guard immediately.

"Sir." Said Sebastian, the only pathetic answer he could possibly give.

"Sir yourself Commander and listen to me." Impatiently Cullen drummed his fingers on the desk. "You know I trust you Vael. You've been with me for more years than I care to count. Not once have you given me cause to doubt your loyalty."

"Yes sir," Sebastian said stiffly, already guessing what was coming next. "Thank you, sir."

"Why else do you think I made you my second here, eh? But there are plenty of others here who say otherwise and I can't fault them for it." He leaned forward his gaze shrewd and appraising. "You don't want me in this house, do you Commander? You're thinking I don't belong here and your thinking of that black, rogue brother of yours instead of your Divine."

"But sir I can-."

"No, sir, you hear me out." Ordered Cullen each word cracking with authority. "I was sent here to put down this foolish mage rebellion and by the Maker I plan to do it. But how can I be expected to subdue the damn rebels, when I've someone among my own regiment who seems to sympathize with the bloody mages we've come here to subdue?"

Sebastian inhaled sharply. "Are you challenging my faith and honor, as well as my loyalty to the Maker?"

"And have it said that I called out my own second?" Cullen retorted. "I'm too clever for that nonsense Vael and so are you. But what else will people think? You turned your back on Starkhaven in your people's time of need, for the chantry without as much as a backwards glance. Who's to say you won't do the same to the chantry now?" Sebastian lunged forward, the rank between him and Cullen forgotten. His long simmering temper finally boiling over, He struck both fists hard down on the desk, inches away from the Knight-Vigilant's face.

"I say it, and to the black void with any man who dares to say otherwise!"

"How dare you-"

"Sweet Andraste Cullen, if you slander me and then can't explain your meaning any better than that, then I-"

"Remember yourself Vael," barked Cullen. "At once!" The order stamped out Sebastian's anger immediately. Years of training raced to silence him. Orders were to be followed any good solider knew that.

_So what the hell was he doing now? _What in the Black Divine was Kirkwall doing to him? Two steps behind Sebastian Cullen's guards rushed through the doors bows nocked at him… At _**him!**_ In that moment he realized how close he was to facing a court-martial and the end of everything he'd worked so hard for. He jerked his hands back from the table as if he'd been burned. Shaking his head in disbelief, appalled by his hotheaded actions. Sebastian drew himself up as tall as he could, his eyes staring impassively ahead.

"Forgive me sir. I do not know what came over me. I vow it will not happen again."

"Your damn right it won't." Furiously Cullen glared at him, waving the guards away. "Your show here only proves I'm right to doubt your allegiance!"

"But sir I assure you that-"

"I don't want your assurances Vael!" Snapped Cullen, his face turning purple with his rage. "I want your loyalty. Watch yourself; watch every last step you take, because I'll be watching too, and next time an outburst like that, will break you. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly sir, said Sebastian. This time when he bowed to take his leave Cullen didn't stop him. "Good day sir." Instead of feeling relief at having escaped punishment Sebastian continued to burn with anger. He stalked through the emptying streets like a wild animal, ignoring the glares from the citizens who lingered about. By the time he made it back to the Rose he felt close to strangling, with blind fury and frustration. The winter sun had set and supper would soon be served, but the thought of sitting down to eat with his men, was more than he could stomach. He turned towards the stable, ordering the black stallion that he'd brought from Orlais, to be saddled.

"Now what shall I fetch the others, Commander?" Asked the stable hand, trying to look around Sebastian. "How many more will be riding with you?"

Sebastian swung himself into the saddle. "There are no others." He said gathering the reins "I'll be riding alone." The stable hand stared at him, shock bleeding from the boy's hazel eyes.

"Alone sir?"

"Alone." Sebastian repeated turning the stud toward the street. He understood the stable hands shock. Sebastian carried no weapon, wore his polished white armour that marked him a Templar and would stand out wherever he went. But tonight Sebastian was as mad as a hatter. _Lunatic fringe, Vael._ As soon as he reached the edge of town, he let his mount have its head, urging the beast to race faster into the darkness, until at last he came to a rocky, outcropping near the sea, known as The Green Dales. He jerked the tired horse to a halt. Here he was alone at last he could think. Staring out beyond the rocks and waves, Sebastian pulled off his helm, letting the salt filled wind from the water whip against his face, clearing the confusion in his thoughts.

He'd been shocked to learn after all these years his brother lived, of course he'd been shocked who could blame him for that? Then to find out Gabriel not only lived, but sided against the chantry? He'd been surprised. Aye, surprise that was it, that's what made him act out so foolishly. His brother's decision to embrace rebel mages was unfortunate. It seemed that doing so had brought about Gabriel's ruin, but that was no reason for Sebastian to destroy himself. His duty was to protect the devout followers of the Maker against the tyranny of magic. Sebastian's duty was to the Maker first and the rest would follow. With Cullen he had let his reason and his judgment become clouded. He must not let it happen again.

Sebastian's stallion began to dance nervously beneath him, bouncing from hoof to hoof. Pulling Sebastian from his thoughts to pat the beast's neck, "easy boy," Sebastian tried to sooth. "Calm your-" Before Sebastian could get the last of his words out he felt the feathered fletching and the searing whistle of an arrow, as it skimmed his ear, just barely grazing him. Sebastian pulled hard on the reins to wheel the frightened horse away from the sea. It was then he heard the whispered hiss of the second arrow being nocked, the hollow whistling of the arrow as it sailed through the air and then he felt the sharp, sudden bolt of pain rip through his chest as the arrowhead hit it's target. He dug his spurred heels into the stud's sides, bending low over the animal's neck, steering it towards Kirkwall, while making himself as small of a target as he could.

Sebastian cursed again at his own carelessness, struggling to control the great, frightened beast below him. Red and white spots flooded his rapidly blurring vision. His pulse weakened, his pierced heart fighting to stay pumping. His breaths became more ragged, until mercifully, divine blackness took him.


	7. Chapter 7

_The Rogue's Conquest _

_Chapter Seven_

"How the mighty have fallen!"Marian fussed to the walls of the Rose. "When the famed Champion of Kirkwall, must slither like a snake in the grass, to get some semblance of privacy." All day she'd felt that hair-raising feeling of being watched. That feeling that made a person so paranoid they began to believe everyone around them had an agenda against them. Marian knew it was a narcissistic paranoia of course. The people of Kirkwall, and even the Templar scum, had much more to be focused on than what type of bread she'd bake this morning. Still, Marian moved silently toward the rear doors of the Rose, toward the stable only a stretch away. At the door she scanned the cold streets, her eyes darting back and forth, then back again, as if awaiting an attack from the abominable snowman at any moment. Seeing nothing extraordinary she stepped out into the stable yard. The sun was beginning to set leaving odd, monstrous like shadows in its wake. Marian pulled her cloak tighter bout her shoulders, bracing herself against the wind as she walked the ten, long strides it took to reach the stable doors.

The stable was her favorite place in the whole world. She'd renovated it from a simple paddock with standing shelter, to an actual barn. A huge, red structure, with black shutters and high peaked ceilings, made of sturdy oak, exactly like the farm her parents had rented in Lothering. Only she'd made her version BIGGER! A two leveled beast. The second floor's three massive rooms was a definite upgrade. In one room she stored the bales of hay and grain, in another was an area to store saddles, bridles, halters, leads, grooming gear anything and everything one would need for riding. Her stable hand also kept a room on the second floor, though he seemed to prefer being on the first with the horses. The first floor was just as impressive, with gigantic, individual stalls, enough to house ten full time boarders and another fifteen for weary travelers. Attached behind the barn was an enclosed, sandy structure, built for indoor riding, competitions and her annual solstice rodeo. Though with the Divine's dogs in the city there'd be no rodeo this year. The barn, much like the rest of the town, had cleared out faster than Marian could blink, leaving only her personal horse and a slew of Templar beasts, gigantic animals, with heads the size of an ogre's thigh and hooves bigger than dinner plates. Never in her life had Marian seen horses so big, they made her accommodations look menial in comparison.

The iridium pulleys groaned over metal rails as Marian slid the heavy door to the left, opening it just enough for her to slip in. Taking one last look over her shoulder to be sure she hadn't been followed, she slid the big door shut behind her. Leaning her back on the wooden frame she inhaled deeply; relishing in the familiarity the musk of the hay brought her. Her ears twitched to the symphony of nickering, stomping, tails swishing, water buckets sloshing, crunching and munching. Horses called to her for extra grain, others let her have it for interrupting their sleep. Ordinary sounds that brought her a measure of calm, acting as a balm for her stressed nerves.

"M'lady?" Cricket, her trusted stable hand, appeared in front of her, eyes wide, pitchfork at the ready. His eagerness to defend her barn and the horses that resided within was her reason for adoring him so loyally.

"Aye, it's just me Cricket. No need to fear." She soothed, placing her hand on the younger man's shoulder, allowing warm, tranquillizing sparks to move from her body to his.

"S-Shall I… Umm, do you want Casey saddled, mum?" He floundered, melting into Marian's touch.

"No, not tonight Cricket, I-" _**BANG**_, the Nevarran mare in question interrupted, slamming her body into her stall door. It was a clear declaration of discontent against Marian's refusal of a nights ride. The alpha mare's outburst caused a chorus line of disgruntled nickering. "Calm yourself Casey." Marian chuckled, swaying away from Cricket, to the sleek, auburn mare. "It's far too dangerous with all these Templars about, my dear Casey. What if our allies mistake us for one of those black-hearted rakes? We'd be blasted on sight." _Unleash hell first... Ask questions later, _wasn't that the new motto?

"Nay, mum! Riding on Casey's back with you at the reins, not even the fastest bowmen, or arcane mage would catch the two of you." Cricket said dreamily, admiration for both her and Casey written all over his young features. "Perhaps, though you should relay how hazardous to one's health a Kirkwall night can be, to that gorilla of a Knight-Commander, you have housed."

"Knight-Commander Vael?" Marian asked, looking toward the stall beside Casey's, where Sebastian's stallion had been earlier, attempting to romance the mare with gifts of his hay over the side of her stall._ Charming beast, just like his master._

"Aye, mum. And he looked madder than a wet hen sitting on a cold egg."

"Did he ride out alone?" She asked with feigned disinterest, stroking underneath Casey's thick, black mane, the mare nuzzling Marian's other hand.

"Aye, barely gave me time to ask what he wanted saddled for his men." _Fool!_ What in the Black Divine was Sebastian thinking? "Lady Hawke? You alright, mum? You're white as a sheet. Looks like you've seen a ghost." Cricket asked his expression worried. Shaking herself, she pressed a smile on her face, masking her fears.

"It's just been a long day Cricket." She said chucking the young man under the chin, and giving him a wink. "Any ways, if that foolish Templar thinks it a good idea to ride around Kirkwall alone, at night, who are we to tell him otherwise?" She paused. "But Crikiebug, don't question him and keep his leaving between us. Okay?" Marian pushed, not entirely sure why she cared.

"Mhmm. Will do Mum." The boy answered, though Marian didn't miss the suspicion that lurked upon his face. _Balls._

**7-7-7**

Sebastian came to in a rush. The world around him was a foggy haze, as if he'd smoked too much piped Spindleweed. The ground below him spun out of control, leaving his confused mind skittering around like a scared rabbit. Questions he couldn't answer fired, one after the other. Where was he? Where were the flashes of white, hot pain coming from? Who was this strange woman chattering to? For that matter who was the strange woman? Slowly, his vision began to clear, his surroundings coming into rapid focus. Before his eyes a grand chantry stood, gloriously lit by the full moon. _S__o I'm dead then… How… Unexpected._ Returning to the Maker was always an obvious plan, though Sebastian never assumed their meeting would be so soon. _Still so much left undone. _Sebastian's jaw clenched tight, a haunting image of fiery hair and supernatural eyes danced in front of him. He'd never learn the fine Lady Hawke's smile. Nor would he uncover her mysterious secrets_. _And he'd certainly never get to understand why not knowing those things, made his insides ache. _Please not yet…Wait. Is the strange woman laughing at me? _Had he been speaking out loud?

Sebastian blinked rapidly, squinting his eyes in an attempt to clear the haze so he could focus on the dark angel guiding his stud's reins. Her hair was the color of night and it drifted down her back like smoky tendrils, reaching just above a black corset, tightly cinching her slim waist. Her white tunic stood out brightly against her coffee coloured skin. Her neck and ears were adorned in elaborate gold jewels, a direct contrast to the simple red scurf wrapped around her battle toned bicep, the favour worn proudly, like a badge of honor. Sebastian's further scrutiny of the strange woman had him whistling in a sharp intake of breath, his eyes landing on the curvy sway of her pants less hips. _No pants?! _Being called to the Maker's side, was becoming more unexpected by the minute.

"What's your name?" Sebastian croaked his mouth too dry to ask anything more. She laughed merrily, a throaty, well-practiced sound, but didn't respond or acknowledge him further. Shifting his weight, he tried to swing from the saddle, only to be met with a screeching chorus of furious pain; it shot through him, dizzying his vision once more.

"I wouldn't suggest moving about so much, sweet thing." The dark angel finally spoke. Her exotic cinnamon and spice voice, reminding him of his time spent in Rivain. "You're not dead… Yet, But that arrow looks to be precariously close to the heart. I'd wager my precious gold collection that any sudden movements will end you."

"Where am I? Where are you taking me?" Sebastian asked, trying to fight back the black stars that flitted about his vision. "What's your name?" _Silence._ "Maker be damned woman, answer me!" Sebastian snapped, her silence unsettling him.

"By the Gods!" She snarled in return, "For a man so close to kissing the Reaper, you, Serha, ask a lot of bloody questions. I think I liked rescuing you better when you were unconscious." She finished, with a heated purr.

"Humph, rescuing me you say? How do I know, you're not the one who shot me in the first place?" Sebastian baited, hearing the metal, of what he assumed to be a tongue ring, click against her teeth. Shooting a look over her shoulder, she measured him thoughtfully.

"It's real simple Knight-Commander," she paused, her chocolate eyes deadly. "I wouldn't have missed your heart." She smirked then, his dusky savior, giving him a hint of pearl white teeth, but the menacing set in her eyes remained and Sebastian was completely convinced she'd have taken him in one shot. Had she been the archer he wouldn't have known he'd been hit.

With an annoyed sigh, the strange angel brought his great stallion to heel, whirling around to face him fully. "Since you've been such a good kitten, I'll answer your questions. I'm Isabela… Captain Isabela, actually." She stated proudly. Crossing her arms under her barely covered breasts, she silently challenged him to question her…

_Another Kirkwall captain… Maker these women! _Sebastian chose to stay quiet.

"We learn quickly I see, Good boy." She drawled, beaming a wide smile his way. "Let's see here, you, are in Kirkwall… I'm taking you back to the Rose and I assume you can see for yourself that you've been nailed with an arrow?"

"You should take me to the Knight-Vigilant. We've brought our own doctors." How would he explain to Cullen why he was out riding alone? "_Foolish."_

"Aye, you do, Orlesian doctors, sweet thing. They're pampered, prissy and have likely never tended such a wound. They'd never get that arrow out of you." She said inclining her head to his chest, then back to his face and shrugged. "At least not with you still breathing. Nope, there's only one person I know who can retrieve that arrow, while you still live." She stated matter-of-factly.

"I'm supposed to trust you then, Isabela? You and this mystery person?" Sebastian asked skeptically.

"From where I'm standing sweet thing, you don't have much of a choice. Do you want to live, or do you want to die?"She paused, only long enough to let her words wash over Sebastian. "You see, here in the dark, my presence is the only thing keeping angry Kirkwallers, from descending upon your wounded, Templar ass, like the vultures they are. This may come as a shock to you." She said, cupping her hand to the side of her mouth, as if to whisper a privileged secret to him. "But the people here aren't real big fans." Her hand drifted from her mouth to point towards his chest. Her head tilted slightly and she clucked her tongue. "Obviously." Turning on her heel, she jerked hard on the stallion's reins, lurching Sebastian forward. A string of profanities left his mouth in waves as the pain shot through him. And as she laughed jovially at the suffering she caused him, Sebastian again wondered what had happened to the infallible, armor of charm he had once had with the fairer sex. "I've also wagered good gold on you. If you were to die I'd lose. Varric would never let me live it down, that dwarf can be an incredibly sore winner." She spoke wistfully, more to herself than to him. "Hawke would also murder me if I let you die."

"Why would Lady Hawke care if I met my Maker?" He questioned, the curious way his heart leapt at the mention of Marian Hawke not lost on him. "She certainly doesn't seem to care for me much."

"Hmm?" Was all the Captain murmured, her hand slowly stroking up his stud's neck, tangling his thick, onyx mane in her hand. Recognition erupted through Sebastian, his blood shooting straight down to his cock. His body thrummed to life, as the diabolical images of Isabela, fisting scarlet locks, in place of onyx, cascaded in a fluid stream about his scrambled brain... "So you do remember!" Isabela laughed. How did she know where his thoughts had strayed? "You know, when a lady goes the full monty for a man and he doesn't recognize her once she's clothed, feelings tend to get hurt." Sebastian felt his jaw drop. She should be trying to pluck his eyes out with a rusty ice pick. What in the Maker's name was this breezy nonchalance?

_She must be mad!_

"What?" She asked, looking at him as if he was the one with a case of the crazy. "Do you honestly think that you're the first ever to catch me," she smiled, a sly, crooked half moon. "Arling my Eamon?"

-"Well no …But."

-"Praising Hawke's Maker?"

-"You… How?"

-"Groping her grinder?"

-"I didn't-"

-"Pampering her Paragon?" Isabela glanced over her shoulder "Shall I keep going? I have dozens of these." Meeting Sebastian's stone, shocked face, Isabela gave him a cocky smirk. "Better yet Knight-Commander." She whispered conspiratorially. "Do you believe that was the first time Marian has ever been caught satisfying a demand of her Qun?" Her dark orbs glittered with fiery mischief. This femme fatale had to be irrevocably mad.

_Completely insane! _And he was lucky enough to be left in her daggered clutches… _Beauty._

**7-7-7 **

MAARRIII!" The pirate queen's voice vibrated through the stable, jolting Marian from her peaceful sleep. Her furry, auburn pillow groaning in contempt at being woken from her slumber

"Shh, Casey girl, you know Bela can't control herself." Marian soothed, lightly petting the white, diamond shape between the mare's eyes. Gently she raised her faithful friend's soft, fleshy nose to plant a kiss.

"MARCO!" Bela howled.

"Polo," came a drunken man's voice in response.

"I'm not looking for you goose." Marian could hear Bela tease her drunken conquest. "Hawke seriously! I have a pressie, made especially for you! You're gonna LOVE it!"

"That's never a good thing." Marian grimaced, smoothing the tuft of mane between Casey's eyes, before getting up from her warmed spot in the straw. "Last time she gave me a present 'I would love,' I ended up in Tevinter's market square, wearing nothing but slave cuffs and a smile. Imagine, Case, trying to explain you're Kirkwall's Champion not a slave, to drooling magister's whom wish to purchase you." She rubbed her wrists at the memory, chattering to her sleepy, uninterested mare. "Goodnight my sweet." Marian murmured, and bent to stroke the horse's hoof, before turning from the mare and exiting the stall quickly, wanting to stop Bela's drunken shouting, before she woke all of Kirkwall for the thousandth time.

"Honestly Isabela! I'm beginning to think you have no idea…" Marian's steps halted, her words dieing away. _That's not a drunken conquest! _She slid the stable door shut without blinking. The sight of Sebastian's broad chest draped over his stallion's powerful neck. "Oh Gods no!" Marian gasped, her eyes followed the dancing feathers of the arrows fletching as it blew gently in the wind. Her heart, had it stopped? Was that the frightful feeling that ripped through her chest? She felt lightheaded, panic for him constricting her throat as a boa would its prey. "W-W-What, the hell is going on B?" Marian asked, only able to push out a whisper around the tight fear that tried to strangle her. "Is he…" She stopped, licking her lips unable to say it. _Dead._ _He can't be dead… Please don't let him be dead! _

"Relax sweet thing," Bela soothed, as if she could read Marian's racing thoughts. "Captain Izzy doesn't give away dead things."

**7-7-7**

"You speak as if I am not here, Isabela." Sebastian said, keeping his tone conversational. He'd been watching Marian through slit eyelids, feigning unconsciousness, needing to know if Isabela spoke any truth about Lady Hawke's fear for him. Though now that he saw her beautiful face twisted in fear, guilt bowled him over. With great effort, he forced himself to raise high on his studs back, tossing her as charming of a smile as he could muster. Her face immediately turned to a cold mask, but the nervous fingers that plucked at a piece of straw in her hair betrayed her, and made his jaw clench, his fist tightening around bits of his stallions mane. Who had she lain with in that stable? Another lover perhaps? Jealousy toiled for reasons Sebastian didn't want to comprehend. What she did. Or who for that matter was none of his business. But still he couldn't keep the dark thoughts at bay, the things he'd do to the man if he ever met him. Wincing Sebastian swung his leg over his horse and slid to the ground, the impact jarring like a jolt straight to his arm and chest. Vile curses rapidly slipped from his mouth. The pain skyrocketed to a fever pitch, nearly knocking him out.

**7-7-7**

Pushing herself off the stable door, Marian gave her skirt a self-conscious pat down before moving toward the wounded Vael, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She'd been preparing for their next meeting all evening long, going over one scenario after another with Casey. Though she'd never expected this. Or that even wounded as he was, he'd still make her as nervous as a mouse trapped in a snake enclosure. She almost smiled when she heard the muttered oaths that slipped from him, for the very human pain behind it made him somehow seem less daunting

"Where's my man?" He asked, as Marian came to stand beside him. His helm was missing; his previously neat hair was now wind whipped and sat tussled around his face, dashing and dangerous. What Gabriel asked of her, she thought woefully, catching a glimpse of his dancing, turquoise lovers. _Oh what you ask Gabe!_ "Your Knight-Corporal?" She asked, as aloof as she could. "I sent him to bed." Sebastian wheeled around to face her, his long, white cloak swirling around him.

"You'd no right to do that. Keran reports to me, not you." She felt his body heat when he moved closer to her, his breath caressing her cheek. Mostly though Marian felt the tension humming between them, its electric spark made the air around them sizzle and crack.

"I've every right, when he's cluttering up my kitchen, putting himself in the way of my chef. I sent him to bed a few hours ago, along with my own staff. We had few customers this eve thanks to you, and I saw no reason to make them all wait up."

**7-7-7**

Damn this Hawke woman and her blunt audacity, Sebastian's mind groused. They'd been playing cat and mouse all day, the problem was he was the poor mouse, she the overzealous cat. "That still doesn't give you the… Give you the…" Maker, help him, he couldn't remember. All Sebastian knew now was that Marian Hawke suddenly had a twin, the ground shook and if he didn't sit down soon, he was going to fall down, here at her feet. He groped blindly for his stallion's strong body, his uninjured right side tangling clumsily in his cloak.

"Let me help you." Her tone softened. In an instant she was there at his side, her arm around his waist, guiding him through the kitchen door, helping him settle down on one of the oak chairs. "Here you are, no harm done." She whispered lightly.

"I'll take Black Beauty here to Cricket." Isabela said, leaning on the doorframe, hiking her thumb over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Love." Was all Marian said, her eyes focused hard on Sebastian. Looking over Hawke's shoulder, Sebastian glimpsed a wicked smile on the dusky woman's face, than she turned away, disappearing in an instant. Before he could protest, Marian lifted his cloak away from the arrowhead, revealing the torn, bruised flesh underneath. He grimaced, but didn't flinch. At least for now, he was only seeing one Hawke.

"Not pretty, is it?" He asked.

"Not in the least." She agreed. To his surprise, she didn't flinch either. Deftly she unfastened the clasp at the neck of his cloak, pulling it off. "Is a jealous husband after you already Knight-Commander?"

"Something like that." Sebastian flexed his fingers, noting how the blood still oozed fresh from the wound around the arrowhead. "Send for Knight-Corporal Keran, Lady Hawke, so I can stop cluttering up your kitchen, as well." She pinned him with a disapproving look.

"Don't you wish me to summon a surgeon, or a mage to heal you?"

"What, and have the news run rampant on every street corner, that the hypercritical Knight-Commander needed a mage to save him, while every rebel in town claims credit for having done this?" He shook his head with disgust at his own foolishness. "No thank you, m'lady. For now, I'd rather stake my luck on Keran."

"Humph!" She scoffed at him. "I'd wager Keran's own shadow makes him nervous Commander. He shakes like a leaf in the wind around me. How steady do you think his hands will be, pulling an arrow from his commanding officer's chest?" Leaning in closer to inspect his wounds, her heady scent of vanilla musk and burnt caramel invaded his senses. Sebastian's eyes drifted closed breathing in deeply, letting her mystery wash over him.

_Maker! _Even half dead his body responded to her, the beast inside demanding he pin the fine Lady Hawke against a wall and mount her till she cried his name.

"Nay, he'd hit the heart fore sure." She was saying, oblivious, for the second time in one day, to Sebastian's dark fantasy with which she starred in. "I can tend this myself. First I'll pull the arrow out, than heal it with my curse." She laughed mockingly, lowering her voice to a sultry whisper. Sebastian's heart began to pound; more blood spurting from around the arrow.

_I'll be bled dry if she continues to purr like this._

"You can't use your magic on me Lady Ha-"

"Don't you Lady Hawke me!" She interrupted furiously, her arms crossing over her chest. "Do you honestly believe that magic is so filthy that you're better off bleeding out, right here on my kitchen floor?"

"N-no that's not how I meant it." Sebastian stumbled. The blood loss and her magic fused body clouded his ability to think clearly. "Listen, one of your own shot me, Lady Hawke. You're clever lass, if I leave the Rose one hundred and ten percent, it would surely raise suspicion." He paused, watching her process the logic in his words.

"You have your own circle mages don't you Knight-Commander? Whoever took a shot at you would assume they took care of you, no?"

"Aye, you'd be right, if the Divine had allowed us to bring our own mages. A circle free city is too strong of a temptation for even the most loyal circle mage. Whoever did this," he motioned his good arm over his chest. "Would look to you as a traitor, you must realize this?"

Her taut posture relaxed, her supernatural eyes swirling back to their dull grey. She obviously agreed with him, though her pride would likely never allow her to admit he was right. "Well, I'm not completely without skill." She said, allowing blue waves to spark in her palms, the air around them growing dense with more power than he'd ever felt. "When my magic is nullified," she continued, the blue glow in her palms dissipating to punctuate her point. "You don't need Corporal Keran just yet. I can tend this au naturel."

He watched her skeptically, tugging at the leather straps that held his plated dragon bone in place. "How do I know you won't lace the dressing with crow poison? Freeing the world of one more Templar scum."

"You don't. You'll simply have to trust me." Without waiting for him to answer, Marian glided to one of the wall cabinets, taking down a wooden box filled with neatly rolled bandages and lint, scissors, needles and waxed thread. Next she laid an open palm on a kettle filled with fresh water, until the copper pot began to steam, and then whistle its readiness. The ease with which she displayed her magic boggled Sebastian's Templar senses, putting him on red alert. Gracefully she moved toward him, laying a clean towel and a dish of soap on the table beside him. Watching her work, his doubts grew. The only other woman to nurse him had been his own grandmother when he was still a lad. And considering how the prickly mistress had practically spat venom barbs at him this afternoon, trusting her seemed more foolish than riding out alone at night did.

Sebastian thought back to his first battle as Knight-Commander. The Royal Elite had been dispatched to again, attempt to take back Tevinter, in the hopes they'd at least free the innocence in such a corrupt place. He'd been thrown for a loop when they'd arrived only to discover the people they were sent to retrieve, to protect, didn't want protecting. The rebel bowmen had stayed hidden in houses and behind walls, like the one who'd fired at him tonight, and unlike that unseen man, the Tevinter rebels always found their mark.

His regiment had taken the rear guard when the Knight-Vigilant called a retreat. Over the whistling bows and screams of the wounded and dying he had shouted at his men until he couldn't speak, to hold their lines steady, to nock their bows, to fire, to be brave. But by the time they'd made it to their ships, more than two hundred Templar soldiers had been wounded or killed out right, and those marked as missing, those left behind, had found no mercy at all at the hands of the mages. Hands just as gentle as Marian Hawke's. Better to leave now to find Keran. Aye Keran he could trust.

"Lady Hawke." he protested, weakly trying to rise. "Please m'lady. I'd prefer-"

**7-7-7**

He pushed himself up from the chair, leaning heavily on the edge of the table. "A lady such as you needn't do such- such tasks."

"You won't escape that way serha." She said softly. How could a man as tall and strong as Sebastian Vael, be so clearly terrified of _her_? Gabriel had been right when he had called her kindhearted. She'd been something of a stray herself, once upon a time. No mongrel was ever turned from her door without a plate of Orana's finest. She'd always been soft of heart that way. She doubted she could ever bring herself to harm any innocent creature, beast or man, even if he was her enemy.

Still, the hazy reality of what he was to her dripped poison into her already uneasy conscience. Was she being kind to him only because he was a man in sore need of her help, or in spite of it?

He began to sway, his knees beginning to buckle, and barely in time had Marian grabbed his uninjured arm to guide him back down into the chair. "I've seen to far more worrisome wounds than your piddling little scrape, Knight-Commander Vael." Marian said with more gentleness than she'd intended. With his snowy white armor disheveled, stained with blood and his face taut with pain, he bore little resemblance to the proud, haughty Templar commander who'd belittled her hospitality earlier. "You serha, are not the first gentleman that's sat in that chair, begging to keep his sins secret. When a woman runs a tavern, there's nothing she won't see."

"Nothing?" Sebastian's upper lip beaded with sweat, as he attempted a smile then growled, his weakness seeming to mortify him. "I thought this was a respectable house?"

"It is." She said sharply, rolling up the sleeves of her robe. Though she knew he was only half listening, she continued talking, hoping that it would help keep his mind off the pain. "You won't find a more respectable tavern in all the Free Marches. But the better bred the cliental, the greater the mischief. Gentlemen are always getting into brawls of one sort or another beneath my roof, and then they beg me to keep the scandal down. And I do. Can you take off your chest plate and tunic, serha, or shall I help you?" She would have bet the Rose that he'd do it himself. Of course he did, with only the stress lines on his face betraying how much pain it caused him. By the time he'd managed to disrobe his upper half she was certain he was going to faint. Most men she'd known would have, but not Sebastian Vael. Grudgingly Marian gave him credit for being able to back up his bravado. Without realizing she was doing it, Marian took a step back from him, her eyes wondering along the expanse of his massive chest. She took mental tallies, of every corded muscle that rippled and flexed under his bronzed skin. Her eyes locked on the soft, sorrel thatch of hair, snaking from his belly button down into his trousers, like an arrow directing her to his most generous of treasures. She'd never seen him like this, had only felt his body with nervous fingers. Only imagined what he'd look like exposed. "_Note to self - Hawke your imagination has nothing on the real deal!" _

"Lady Hawke?" She heard him ask. Only then she realized how openly she was appraising him. With pink cheeks, she met his predatory orbs and a knowing smile, plastered on his full cherry lips. Clearing her throat, she set back to the task at hand.

"What can I get you from the bar? We have Dwarven ale, Antivan whiskey, wine-"

"Nothing." The single word came out as a harsh growl, and Marian realized that his fainting was still a definite possibility.

"Nothing?" She repeated. "Do you enjoy pain Knight-Commander?"

"Not as a rule. But I have vows that even when injured I keep to."

"Vows? I'm sure your "merciful" Maker, wouldn't want his most loyal suffering more than necessary. A swig of rum to ease your pain shouldn't bring on the apocalypse." She couldn't believe the pain this stubborn fool of a man was willing to endure, for vows. No one but she and he would know he broke them. By the Gods! The Knight-Vigilant had already been to her tavern, barking for ale. He certainly hadn't seemed worried about his vows. She'd even seen him take both Jethann and Serendipity, her most notorious prostitutes, to one of the empty suites for a go around. _To pray, for their souls, I'm sure. _Rolling her eyes, she moved to grab ale from the taproom, ignoring his foolishness.

"I won't be drinking whatever you bring back, Mistress Hawke." He rasped behind her.

"Are you insane? You won't let me heal you, nor will you take ale to dull the pain. You stubborn, stupid-" She whirled to face him instantly recognizing the harsh set of his jaw the muscle ticking in his left cheek. _You have got to be kidding me… _The stubborn set of his jaw, was an identical match to Nova's. The little girl would lock her jaw and Marian would know, right then, that not even the Gods could sway the little dove from whatever she'd set her mind to. Marian wouldn't win this battle. She'd lost enough to their daughter's bullheaded determination, to know that much. _"Their daughter..." _Gods she didn't have time to analyze when _her_ daughter had become _theirs_

"Alright, okay." She sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "How bout a story then?" A story! Why did she feel such an intense need to take away this man's suffering? _A bloody story! Really Marian? Next you'll being offering to tuck him into bed._

"I must admit Mistress Hawke; you seem to be a remarkable woman. Tavern keep, nurse and now bard."

"Aye, Knight-Commander, I happen to be all those things." Moving in closer to him, she let her lips brush his ear, his bronzed hair tickling the sensitive flesh of her cheek. "I'm also said to be a remarkably proficient lover." With his sharp intake of breath, she snapped the arrowhead in one clean break. Her bold words doing exactly as she had hoped they would. Distract him just long enough to keep him from squirming… "So what says you Knight-Commander, would you like to judge my skills as a bard for yourself?" She asked casually, squinting to inspect the purpling flesh around the broken arrow.

"More than you'll ever know." He bit out, eyes growing hazy and again she braced herself to catch him, just in case he fainted. Desperate to keep him awake and upright she mulled over what tale she could tell him. In truth, Marian wasn't a bard at all. She really only knew of one story. Bethany's favored skinned knee and broken heart balm. _A story of soul mates…Fitting. _Nervously Marian fiddled with her apron, hoping Sebastian wouldn't think her foolish or starry eyed for the words she would speak to him.

"Long before the Maker ruled the skies." She began; trying to beat back the wistful, lonely feeling that settled in the pit of her gut. "There were three parents: Sun, Moon, and Earth. Each produced an offspring, round and otherwise like itself. From Sun, was produced the man, from Earth, the woman and from Moon, the androgyny. Each of these three was a double, one head with two faces looking out in opposite directions, four arms and legs." She paused bracing her left hand on his shoulder to keep him steady, while her right extracted the arrow.

"Please Lady Hawke, don't stop." Sebastian said through clenched teeth, grazing his hand over hers, causing the familiar sparks against their skin.

"Um. Okay. Where was I? Oh right…." She cleared her throat, nerves jittering. "They moved about on the earth, with a great deal more freedom and powers than we humans do now, for they rolled-ran hand, over hand and foot, over foot at double speed. Though physically faster, stronger and by far superior to us, these old humans were just as flawed, the need for power ruling them. Foolishly, the old race decided to try and over throw their Gods. Scaling Mount Olympus, where their creators dwelled, they attempted to take the skies for themselves.

"I can't imagine these Gods were happy with their creations?" Sebastian interjected, his investment in her story caused her heart to flip flop.

"Nay, they weren't. Though Zeus, the king of Gods and mankind, stopped their attack with ease, he knew he'd have to punish his progeny for their brash attempts at power. But he couldn't kill them outright.

"Because he was merciful?" Sebastian asked.

"Mmm… No." Marian laughed. "Who would worship the Gods, if all the worshippers were dead? Instead he decided their fool; arrogance would easily be checked if they lost their speed, strength, and confidence. To do this, he split them in two, forcing them to be less than whole. With a thunderbolt Zeus cut the man-man, woman-woman, and man-woman creatures in half. After the bolt struck down, the half creatures ran around frantically, the separation leaving both sides with a desperate yearning to be reunited, because they each shared the same soul. Ever since then, all people spend their lives searching for they're other half. The creatures that had been double women before, naturally sought out women; those who had been androgynous, sought out members of the opposite gender; and those who had been double men, sought out the company of men."

Taking a step back, Marian surveyed her work. The arrow had luckily gone straight through his chest, missing both bone and heart. And though the swelling and bruising on both sides made for a hideous wound, it didn't take her long to clean and cover it with an oiled poultice to help drain away any poison the bowmen may have laced his arrows with. Though he'd listened intently to her story, she knew she had hurt him further. There hadn't been any way to avoid it. Yet not once had he cried out, or complained, his only sign of pain was in the way he balled his hands into whitened fists.

"You're a fortunate man serha," she said softly as she wrapped a linen bandage around his right shoulder, then under his left arm, repeating the process a few more times. "Another few inches to the left and the arrowhead would've struck bone."

He sighed, an exhausted, drawn out exhalation, now that the worst was past. "Another eight inches. And it would have found my heart. I'll warrant that's where the bastard was aiming. Lucky I was that my horse shied when he did."

Automatically, Marian's glance shifted to the broad expanse of his chest, trying to imagine the heart beneath it stilled forever. For the first time, she noticed the gold chain he wore around his neck and the little pendent that hung from it. _My pendent! _The one she had brought him along with the blood of Flint Company staining her white wings. _He'd kept it? _"What is that?" She asked, wanting to hear him explain her deeds in his own words. "I'd say eagle?

"Hawk actually, not eagle…" he paused. "Actually, I must admit that I'm guessing when I say hawk. An angel of mercy had it delivered to me in a most beautiful, white hawk's talons." He caressed the pendent, his gaze growing distant as his thumb stroked over the golden metal "I've kept it since as sort of a lucky charm." On a sigh, he dropped the precious bauble, shaking his head miserably. "Not that it served me well this night."

"Oh, but it has," said Marian quickly, slightly breathless from the butterflies floating through her body. "Think how close that shot came to being mortal!"

"You believe in degrees of luck, then?" he asked wryly. "Too bad I was shot, but at least I wasn't killed?" He asked, looking at her through half lidded eyes. Now that the task of cleaning the wound was done, she was once again achingly aware of him, as the man who had haunted her thoughts and dreams for so many years. But reality was so different from dreams. Reality was the curling of sorrel hair, on his muscled forearm that rested so close to hers; reality was the stubble of a beard above full lips. Lips that had once kissed her own. Reality was the blood splattered, bone armor that made him her enemy.

"You were riding when you were hit?" She asked trying to turn the tide of her thoughts back to where they belonged. At least this might be something that would interest Gabe. He sighed ruefully, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

"What an easy mark I must have been, too, there in the moonlight with the sea around me. I was west of the town, near a place called the Green Dales. Do you know it?" She nodded, while her throat constricted.

_Gabriel's hunting lands, _her eyes inspected the now broken arrow for the first time. Red and gold fletching; Gabriel's colors... Could Gabe have done this then, taken aim and shot to kill his own brother? _Not his brother, but a Templar solider. Not another Vael, but the enemy. Remember that Mari, or else you'll be lost once more!_

"You weren't lying." He said as she turned in her seat, to busy herself with washing her hands.

"About?" She asked.

"My brother. I didn't believe you, perhaps because I didn't want to. But you were right about his… His allegiances. I wonder Mistress Hawke, did you laugh when you turned from me at the Knight-Vigilance door."

"No." Was her simple response. In truth she remembered how she had glanced back to watch him enter his brother's stolen home, her locket held tightly in her gloved fingers.

"No?" He turned his head to look at her, his turquoise eyes searching and his expression questioning. Marian almost moaned out loud the expression he held, the angle of his jaw, as he leaned his head to one side to study her. Moonlight from the window, cascading over his perfect smile, immediately sent heat through her body, rocketing straight down to her core.

"No," Marian said, as firmly as a woman in heat could. She pushed her stool away from him and rose bundling the soiled linen in her hands. "You need your rest, Knight-Commander; shall I fetch Corporal Keran now, to help you up the stairs to your room?"

**7-7-7**

"Stay just a moment," said Sebastian softly, covering her hand with his own. "Do you believe your story?" He pressed, skimming the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. "Believe that you're made of the earth?"

The deep crimson flush that blazed across her high cheekbones, read like an open book, she caught his meaning. Tugging her hand away from his, she cradled it against herself as if to protect it from him.

"So you did see then?" She whispered, but pulled her chin high daring him to belittle her.

"Aye, and I apologize for spying on such an intimate moment, it hadn't been my intention. Though with how beautiful both you and Isabela looked, I will admit the moment should have been painted, so it could forever be frozen in time." Sebastian said sincerely. He waited for her to slap him or at the very least curse him to the Black Divine; instead, she chose to shock him. Moving to his good arm she helped him stand, bracing it over her shoulder, and then reached her small arm around his lower back. In silence, they moved through the dark halls and up the stairs. Making it to the door of his suite, she unlooped the master key from her belt, opening the door. Slowly she eased herself away from him.

"Thank you Mistress Hawke for everything you've done for me this night." Sebastian said. Their eyes locked, swirling grey to blue, on turquoise.

"I told you, serha, what I've done for you; I've done for many others, as well. I've looked to your wound the best you'll let me, but you must still protect against a fever and infection." He smiled, as much to himself, as he did to her, bowing politely turning from her. "Knight-Commander." She said, grabbing his good arm to halt him.

"Aye?" Sebastian asked, turning toward her once more.

"In Venere Veritas." The words she spoke confused him, they were foreign, and he guessed Antivan? Perhaps Rivaini? But that was about all he could guess about them.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"Earlier, you asked, if I believe I'm bore from Earth, the answer is no." She stepped closer to him, standing on tiptoes, her lips just inches from his. "I simply believe In Venere Veritas." She whispered, their breaths mingling, making his body sway.

In the blink of an eye she pivoted, heels clicking with each retreating step away from him she took.

_I__n Venere Veritas. What does that mean?_

"Damnation woman! What does that mean?" He called out, only to be met with silence.


	8. Chapter 8

_The Rogue's Conquest_

Chapter Eight

_Ahhh, yes, The Hanged Man. Where poor men came to swill rat piss and fuck easy women_, Sebastian thought grimly. The place hadn't changed a bit. The old wooden bar to his left still had a gouge of splintered wood out of it where Sebastian's head had clashed with it in his youth. The tables and chairs had been refinished so many times they were three different shades of orange, the floor was so caked in dirt and booze you couldn't see the hardwood underneath. Breathing in deep Sebastian mused over how the place even smelled the same, though he'd never been quite able to put a finger on whatever THAT smell was.

_Worst idea ever, Vael…_ Maker that was understatement! Even in his youth he never fit in, it was part of the charm back then. Back then, he had his brothers and he'd show up looking for a fight. Now however, alone and with every Lowtown dwellers eyes glaring daggers through him, he didn't feel nearly as confident of himself as he did as a lad.

Sebastian dressed in normal street clothes, a black tunic, black-leather riding pants, plain, scuffed boots, with the hopes, that without his armour he'd be able to blend in. From the icy snarls and foul curses he was receiving, Sebastian realized he'd only managed to make himself look like a Templar here to score a hit of lyrium. _A regular genius you are Vael!_ Forcing himself to stand tall under their scrutiny, he scanned the tavern, squinting through the smoky haze of piped tobacco and dim lighting. He'd come here to find someone, and though his shoulder ached and his head told him he was an idiot, he was a determined man tonight. His gut told him this would be where she dwelled and like clockwork there she sat, in the very back of the tavern, in the company of a bevy of different people, each more different looking from the next.

A blond Dwarven man sat across from her, staring intently at the cards in his hands. To his left, a petite elven woman squinted; through slit lids at her own cards, her short brown hair-do and the tattoos marking her face, clear evidence, she was Dalish made. Beside the little elf, a burly man sat, arm protectively wrapped over her abdomen, a scowl lined his chiseled features, while his familiar blue eyes, were leveled hard on his lady's cards. If Sebastian were a betting man, he'd wager all his coin on their hand being a dud.

There was a second elf in the group of misfit toys, but he was completely unlike anything most would ever see. He'd taken Sebastian by surprise, had made the hairs on the back of his neck pulse. This elf's tattoos were also exotic like the Dalish, but much more malicious. Sebastian had seen ones like them in Tevinter; the men who bore them were always collared slaves, but ferocious fighters. Their eerie blue glow was an unsettling sight to behold when they came at you on the battlefield. Going toe to toe alone, with the white, haired elf would be a fool's goal. In Tevinter it had taken a dozen Templar soldiers, to take down just one lyrium slave. Curious to find one in Kirkwall. Aye, it was indeed. Lyrium slaves weren't easily given away and no Magister would have ever graced him with his freedom. _Not without dying first._

"Rest in peace then, you soulless prick." Sebastian growled triumphantly, feeling an affinity for the lyrium elf already. He would have had to kill the Magister that owned him. Which meant the elf had a giant set of brass balls, because no one, but Templars ever attempted such a dire fete.

Glancing over the elf once more, Sebastian noticed the same, simple red scurf as Isabela wore. His was wrapped securely around his wrist and worn with the same kind of pride as Isabela._ Lovers too than?_ Did everyone in Kirkwall take joy in each other? Had the city truly slipped so far from the Maker's grasp?

Sighing, his gaze finally landed on his target. Isabela sat watching her companions intently, a wicked smile on her dusky face._ She's winning. _Of course she was, cheating often did that for a person. Sebastian could just see, the brim of an ace, sticking out of the top of her gauntlet. _Tsk tsk, clever lass. _

She looked exactly as she had the previous night, except her hair was loosely braided over her right shoulder. The child like braid gave her a look of innocence, a sense of naivety even, "but you're not fooling anyone Goddess,"he whispered. With a lopsided grin on his face, Sebastian approached their table, with only the dagger in his left boot for protection if this went array.

Though everyone in the tavern gawked openly at him, not a single person at Isabela's table bothered to acknowledge his presence. Shifting uncomfortably, Sebastian cleared his throat. He wasn't a man, used to being ignored. At six-foot-five, he was an imposing figure, always carrying a built-in air of authority. He wasn't sure, how to go about getting attention that should have already be his. "Ahem!" He cleared his throat, emphasized the sound so hard his shoulder screeched.

"Oh Knight-Commander, I didn't see you there." Isabela purred. Her greeting made Sebastian's hackles stand on end. Hearing his title, all her companions dropped their cards, each tensing in different measures. The dwarve brought a massive crossbow from his back, resting it on his lap. The Dalish lass hopped from the table, a hand pressed to her swollen abdomen, her eyes, filled with curiosity, never leaving Sebastian. She moved to stand behind the intense, blue eyed, man, who was now primed to attack, his knees bouncing under the table, fists clenched with anticipation. The lyrium elf and Isabela were the only two members, of this mismatched band, kicked back, calmly watching him, both with unreadable expressions. _Nuff attention for ye' Vael?_

"You're just in time, we need a fifth for Wicked Grace." Isabela's cinnamon voice, cut through the inescapable tension, but didn't mask it.

"You have a fifth Isabela, and I don't gamble." Sebastian said his words clipped, body strung tighter than a bowstring.

"You mean Carver, or Merrill?" Isabela scoffed, pointing to the burly man and Dalish elf. "They count as one, they're a bit handicapped you see." She laughed, at her jest, while Carver growled and Merrill hobbled on one bare foot, inspecting the pad of the other. "As for you not gambling Knight-Commander," she continued, her eyes nailing him hard, with mischievous intent. "I helped save your life, you owe me something. Trust me when I say a game of Wicked Grace is thee most innocent of all my personal payment options." Another melody of reaction swept through her companions. Carver scoffed, rolling his eyes in disgust, Merrill bit her lip, humming in confusion, the lyrium elf and dwarve simply laughed deep, knowing rumbles. "Sit." She said sharply, narrowing her chocolate orbs at him.

"No." He returned stubbornly, shaking his head, spreading his legs apart in a fighter's stance. He'd come to The Hanged Man for a reason, and he wasn't going to be distracted from it. "I've come here to speak about Marian Hawke."

Without warning, a meaty hand circled Sebastian's throat in a vice grip. To his left he heard the dwarf's crossbow crank, then a broad sword being unsheathed and the impact of earth magic crackled, shaking the taverns foundations. At the mention of Marian Hawke, the whole tavern seemed to come too life. Beer bottles broke around him; turned into sharp, face shredders. Chairs were thrown against walls, their legs heavy enough to beat a man within an inch of his life. Even the wooden coat stand to his right was snatched up. The makeshift weapons were held at the ready, all pointed directly at him.

"My sister is a good woman Knight-Commander." Carver snarled, his blue eyes as electric as his sisters. "A beautiful, kind-hearted woman, who's done nothing wrong. I'd suggest you turn your misguided attentions elsewhere." The young man continued, his hand tightening around Sebastian's neck, pressing so hard Sebastian feared his head might pop off his shoulders; black dots flitted in and out of his vision.

"Are you threatening me serha?" Sebastian managed to wheeze through his collapsing windpipe. He was positive he could put the young Viscount down; it would only take a single quick palm thrust to the younger man's prominent nose. However with being so woefully outnumbered, showing aggression seemed foolhardy._ Marian would also despise you more Vael._

"No, Knight-Commander, I'm promising you. If you intend to hurt my sister in anyway, you'll end up floating face down in the Minanter River."

"Oh, Carver." Isabela cackled from somewhere behind Sebastian. Or maybe she was beside him, with the pressure building in his head, thought was becoming a challenge, his usually keen senses were dulled, the black void beginning to take him in it's sweet embrace. _Saved by an angel, only to be killed by her brother!_

"Let him go." A small, but assertive voice boomed. And as though his hand caught fire, Carver jerked it away. Leaving Sebastian barely able to stand upright, his knees dangerously close to meeting the floor. With her single command, he heard weapons being sheathed, the crossbow uncocking and the earthen magic wither, then die.

The angry mob that had formed parted like an ocean's wave against a rocky reef. Revealing, in their wake, the little mage in question. Clad in a silky golden robe that wrapped snuggly around her lithe frame, it's plunging neckline revealing the sun-kissed bits of her perfectly shaped breasts. Her floor length emerald cloak, hung from her slender shoulders, igniting her fiery hair with its rich color. She looked as beautiful and powerful, as Sebastian pictured Andraste had on the battlefields of Tevinter

Striding through the crowd, she placed her palms on every person she could. They'd cuddle into her little hands willingly, their taut bodies immediately relaxing. She was healing these people! These Lowtown dwellers, people that were below her, completely unworthy of walking the same ground as she did and yet she laid her hands on faces, shoulders, arms and chests. None of them had likely bathed in months, but she didn't cringe once or refuse a single person. Not even when the healing waves seemed to tire her, her pretty tanned face rapidly draining to a paper white and the skin around her eye's seeming too hollow and darken, did she stop. Sebastian watched on amazed by her; it was no wonder these people loved her as they did. _Their angel of mercy._

Coming to stand beside her brother, she placed her small hand on his massive bicep, looking to him with unmistakable love shining in her pretty eyes. His scowl changed to a look of utter joy. Scooping her up into his arms, he twirled her around, both siblings laughing merrily.

Without another look towards Sebastian, everyone turned to circle around Marian, completely forgetting he was ever there… Another first for him.

"Finally come to give me a shot at winning my coin back, eh Hawke?" Varric asked nudging his shoulder into her hip.

"Ha." She scoffed. "As if you could ever beat me at Wicked Grace Varric." She said, placing her hands on her hips. _Arrogant little lass!_ Sebastian mused inwardly, watching these people interact. "You do remember what happened last time, don't you?" She giggled, wagging her shapely eyebrows at the dwarve.

"Mhmm, who could forget that?" Varric murmured, scratching the tawny golden hairs on his chest, settling himself back down, tankard of ale in hand.

Nervously, the little Dalish stood off to Marian's left. Catching the older woman's eye, Marian swiftly wrapped the young elf in a tight embrace.

"So sister in-law." She started her hands going to the Dalish woman's swollen belly, letting loose another round of healing waves. "Is my brother taking care of you as he should? Or do I need to turn him into a toad to teach him a lesson?" The Dalish elf's eyes lit up

"A toad! Oh Hawke, I had no idea you could do that! Could you teach me?"

"Nah, she can only turn Templar's into toads dearest." Carver said moving to the elf's side, shooting Sebastian a look of disgust.

"Oh! Carver! The city is filled with Templar's." The little elf chirped, squirming to get free of her lover's embrace. "Meet me at the manor in a few hours Hawke." She said, turning toward Lady Hawke, clapping her hands excitedly, before bounding through the crowd and out the tavern door.

"You best go after her sweet brother, before she attempts to take Templar's for our 'lesson'" Marian chuckled, making air quotations with her fingers.

"Hmm sister, I fear you may be right." Kissing Marian's forehead, Carver looked back to Sebastian. "Remember what we spoke of serha, and never forget it. I never break a promise." Nodding to his sister and companions, Carver swivlled, ramming his broad shoulder into Sebastian's injured one, as he passed. Sebastian barely halted the pained cry that leapt into his throat, his injuy shrieking it's discontent.

"I see your making friends again Knight-Commander." She chided, his body going ridged with her sudden attentions.

"As you can see ma'am, I'm not that good at it." He smiled sheepishly.

"Really? I never would have guessed." She laughed, bringing a small hand to her mouth in mock surprise. "Is Fenris here?" She asked, scanning her friend's faces; as if Sebastian should know the person she sought.

"I'm here Hawke." A deep voice resonated from a forgotten corner of the tavern. The lyrium elf exited the shadows arms crossed over his chest.

"Excellent! If your not busy, I need to talk to you." Marian whispered, her hands nervously pushing scarlet curls behind the shell of each ear. Sebastian watched the little mage curiously, as Marian Hawke went from Lady Hawke, to a docile doppelganger, when the elf approached. With her reversion from tough as nails tavern keep, to shy virgin bride, Sebastian realized two things. The first being that the red favors Fenris and Isabela wore, were worn for the petite mage, not each other and the second, that he suddenly wanted to rend the elf in two.

"I've always time for you Hawke." _Kill him!_ Sebastian's mind roared, his body tensing in agreement, as the elf moved to Marian, looping her arm into his own. When Fenris proceeded to kiss her cheek, his lips glowing blue, the animal caged in Sebastian's head howled, its fangs dripping saliva, it's daggered claws, ripping flesh and bone. The only thing that stopped him from giving the Vael beast his reins; was the fact that the lyrium kiss seemed to rejuvenate Marian. Her pasty skin became sun-kissed once more; her eyes rose from their hollowed set, and the slight tremors that had shaken her small form were subsiding.

With a small incline of her head to Sebastian and a blown kiss to Isabela and Varric, Marian and the lyrium elf were gone, leaving he and his beast frightfully close to the edge.

"So you want information?" Isabela asked, bringing his attention off of Lady Hawke's shapely, retreating curves.

"Your trading information?" Scoffed Varric "That's dirty play, even for you Ravaini."

"I assume dwarve, you're the other half of this bet Isabela spoke about last night?" Varric shot him an intrigued glare. "Ravaini… Ravaini." The dwarve tsked, not taking his eyes off of Sebastian. "Marian would not be pleased if she found out you're meddling in her business."

"Oh don't be so abrasive Varric. Besides you're just salty because you didn't think of it first."

"Indeed." Varric said thoughtfully, leaning against the wall his hands tenting over his stomach.

"Come on Knight-Commander, let's talk somewhere more private." Isabela purred, grabbing his left arm roughly, laughing again, at his pained groan.

"It wouldn't be appropriate M'lady, these people would talk." Sebastian growled, through clenched teeth. Scanning the silent tavern, every person's eyes were locked on him. Just waiting to spread the news that the famed Knight-Commander, parked betwixt this dusky wench's thighs. _Aye they'd slander me._ _Maker the scandal! _

"M'lady," Varric laughed, slapping his knee with mirth. "Did you hear that Ravaini? He thinks you're a lady. Last night obviously didn't end with nudity."

"It was certainly tragic Varric, seeing the Knight-Commander in nothing but a smile, would be a blessed event. Alas he was in no shape for me, mon cheri." With a heavy sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, Isabela peered out to the gawking crowd.

"I'm going to take the Knight-Commander to my quarters." She called out loudly to the whole tavern. Everyone cheered, raising their tankards to the dusky woman in a toast, while she unsheathed sharp silverite daggers from her back. "Quiet you drunken fools, I wasn't finished. All you people here." She paused, sweeping one of her daggers over the crowd, their full attention riveted on the deadly picture she cut. "Will act as if you've seen nothing. The Knight-Commander hasn't even been here, Understood?"

"Ahoy, now Isabela! This Templar getting his rocks off isn't our secret to keep." Shouted the drunken bar keep, the alcohol he swilled, liquid courage in his veins, his brave words igniting the rest into agreement.

"I know Corff… That you tragically cannot help being so bloody stupid… Must I remind you of what happened to Lucky, when he chose not to heed my warnings? And serha, I liked him." She twirled her daggers with fluid grace, the silverite hissing with every smooth turn. "You however," she smiled licking the sharp tip of one. "Why… I can't stand you." In a flash she launched both daggers at the wide-eyed barkeep, the sharp blades embedding into the wall, on either side of his head. Her skilled display, promptly influenced every man and woman to stand down, each giving Isabela his or hers vow of secrecy. "Hmm, wise choice. It would seem, you all are quite smart when you think collectively." She turned towards Sebastian, while the shaken crowd attempted to look busy. Games of Wicked grace were quickly under way, so quick in fact, that most the men found themselves staring blindly at upside down cards. Corff set to work, pulling her daggers from the wall with shaky hands. He looked as if his knees would buckle any moment and likely he needed a new pair of trousers.

"Now, Knight-Commander. Do you want your curiosity sated or not?" Isabela grabbed his chin, pulling his face from the crowd.

"Yes," he paused, attempting to scan the tavern once more; to be sure none of his men were here. "I'd like your help."

"Follow me then." She crooned, index finger crooked at him in a come hither motion. Turning on her booted heel she sauntered away from him, down a dirty back hallway. The very same hallway he'd taken many a prostitute down as a lad. Sometimes he wouldn't even make it to a room, he'd simply toss up their skirts and take them right there, in the filthy, rat-infested hall. Sebastian shook his head hard, trying to will away the memories as he came to stand in the dusky woman's doorway. The younger him was a rogue, a disgusting rake. The way he'd treated those woman was shameful, what a stupid lad he'd been.

"Come sit." Isabela patted the spot next to her.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to stand." He said moving into the tiny room, only big enough to fit the bed she sat upon, a small table and an old wooden dresser. Maker he felt like an ogre in such a small space.

"I won't bite Knight-Commander, I swear it…. Unless you beg that is." He was positive the sinful wink and smile she flashed him had trapped men, like spider webs trapped unsuspecting bugs. Though he suspected the bugs were put down much more mercifully than this woman's conquests.

"Those people would've killed me!" He stated, an attempt to change the subject, from seating arrangement, to the mysterious Lady Hawke.

"You came to that conclusion all by yourself did you?" She teased.

"Aye! Lots of things become impossibly clear, when a man's hand comes around your throat with every intention of crushing your windpipe, ma'am." Gently he rubbed his still throbbing throat at the memory of Carver's hand. "What's strange to me though, is that the diplomatic, merciful and all around benevolent Viscount, is Carver Hawke." Raising a brow at Isabela's suddenly ridged posture, he pushed further. "There's nothing diplomatic about him. He's far too brash and impulsive to think rationally on his own. He wouldn't have accepted Templar's into his city. I've met many a men like serha Hawke, he would have chosen full out war… So then who pulls his strings I wonder?"

Isabela watched him closely her face shifting between respect for him and for once, a shaky uncertainty.

"Knight-Commander, when you were so up close and personal with Carver, did you get the feeling that he was a man who'd take orders from anyone?" She was circling around his question with one of her own. _Redirection won't be working Goddess. _Carver was undoubtedly stubborn as an ox, that Sebastian had been witness too. And Isabela was likely right that the man would bristle at orders from Sebastian or anyone for that matter… _Except his sister. _He'd taken two direct orders from Marian, in quick succession without batting an eye. _So she's his puppet master. _If she were, it wouldn't shock Sebastian in the least. Marian Hawke was a perfect blend of stormy power and quiet calm, strong of will; yet, she was perfectly capable of seeing sensible reason. An enigma, shaped as the perfect leader. "You've come to talk about Marian, did you not?" Isabela interrupted, impatiently tapping her blunt nails upon her bent knee. By the sudden show of her temper Sebastian knew he'd hit close to his mark.

"In Venere Veritas." He said, letting the subject of Carver drop. He didn't need Isabela to help him piece the puzzle of the Hawke siblings together; he was quite capable of that himself. He did however need her to translate.

**Isabela's Pov**

Isabela squinted her eyes, trying to make sense of the ever changing Knight-Commander and his uncanny ability to shock her, this being yet another display, of that formidable gift. Words spoken in her native tongue, not simply words, but a provocative truthful quote from a Ravaini artist and poet that had once painted her. A quote she'd once spoken to a very naïve, redheaded serving girl, she had met in a Redcliffe tavern ages ago. _Tsk, tsk Mari._

"Come again?" She asked snapping her head up to look at him, keeping her expression blank.

"In Venere Veritas. I know the words are Ravaini and that you hail from Ravain. So what do they mean?" He was desperate; she could see that from a mile away. The smooth silk of his brogue was choppy, his hand shaking so slightly; she'd have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it. She guessed if she could look into his clever mind, she'd see it twisted up harshly like a pretzel. _Oh Hawke, what kind of demon have you awoken this time?_

"I don't know what they mean. Who spoke em to you Knight-Commander?" She stalled, wanting to push him into showing the frightening beast the Vael's were said to court, just below their handsome veneer.

"Don't test me Isabela, I'm in no mood! I know, you know it and demand you tell me now!"

"Oh, dear, stupid Sebastian," she intoned, more to warn the man than to seduce him. "Do you truly believe, when you walked through my door, you held any authority over me? Bark your demands, all you want, bare your blood soaked fangs," Moving from the bed, she stood directly in front of him. "I enjoy it when uptight, Maker fearing men stumble from grace. The darkness they try so desperately to hide from, always lingering just below the surface." Placing her hand on his abdomen, she rested her left cheek on the stubble of his right, "What does he look like Knight-Commander?" She whispered in his ear, licking the shell, feeling sweat bead his temple. "I bet he's pure evil, all sorts of depraved. Divine Justinia would be ashamed, wouldn't she serha?" _Poke at the wounded mabari Izzy; nothing bad ever happens when you do that._

He moved so quickly, her cat like instincts failed. Her body moved in slow motion while his moved at light speed, throttling her down on top of her bed, her back meeting the mattress so hard the springs squealed then broke. He straddled her hips, sitting back far enough, that he immobilized her legs, his right hand wrapped tight around her neck, the left pinning both her wrists to the pine headboard above them. For the first time in Isabela's life she was completely subdued, no hand to play, not a single out to take. She hadn't covered all her bases and now, was at the mercy of this man.

Except to look at Sebastian Vael now, he didn't look much like a man at all. His eyes were hard set, the whites bloodshot. His turquoise orbs, that usually held gentle understanding, were feral and unseeing. His face was pulled into harsh lines, marred with wicked desire and his lips were drawn back from perfect teeth, twisted into a snarl._ Why, hello demon prince!_

"Thes' whit ye' wanted tae' see lass?" He growled low at her ear, his brogue breaking rough in the rush of madness. "Am Ah everythin' ye' imagined?" He baited, cruelly jolting the hand around her throat, so that her head bounced with the motion. Isabela gazed up into his wild face, her senses slightly rocked. She felt his hand clenching, than unclenching as if the two Vael's that resided within were each warring for rights to the controls of their handsome host. He'd soon be snapping her in two, or Sebastian Vael would get control of himself and the madness would simply recede.

Isabela had seen the Vael darkness only once before, in Gabriel Vael. After Maria's death, the man had come to the Hanged Man itching for a fight. A fight that a young Templar, deep in his cups, had been more than happy to oblige. In one quick, breathtaking instant the young man stood tall, in the next Gabriel snapped his neck, nearly rending the man's head from his shoulders with the force.

_And now I've goaded an altogether different demon Vael from the shadows._ And this one was indeed infinitely different, far more repressed, hidden longer and deeper in caged solitude_._ Would he follow in his brother's brutal footsteps? Could this man be so close to that edge? Isabela couldn't help but feel electric. Sebastian Vael held her life over a high cliff, with massive, jagged rocks waiting to greet her at the bottom. If he chose to let go, she would be but a memory and the knowledge of that injected a nearly lethal dose of red, hot adrenaline straight to her heart. _Have I ever sat so prettily on such an edge before? _She wondered licking her lips, as nerves twitched and frayed beneath her faked, calm exterior.

**7-7-7**

"In Venus there's truth!" Sebastian heard Isabela rasp over the pounding in his head, only than did he realize what he was doing, Layin' hans' on woman now Knight-Commander? His mind mocked, brogue so thick Sebastian wasn't sure he even understood what he was saying. Immediately he jumped from her, his eyes wide and mouth gaped in a giant O, shakily he ran a hand through his hair. "Maker, Isabela, I'm- I shouldnae' have- Ah am so sorry." He stumbled over himself, looking for something, anything worthy to say. But sorry just wasn't enough, it couldn't be. _Maker I've had Templars lashed mercilessly for less than this._ What kind of man was he?

Sebastian watched her slowly roll to her side, her right hand gently propping up her head. _Here come the tears. _Sebastian cringed; he was never good with tears. Except she wasn't crying, nor did she seem on the verge of spilling the crystal jewels. Instead she smiled at him, a smile that reached all the way to her chocolate orbs, glittering brightly behind her thick sweep of coal darkened lashes. Falling to her back Isabela laughed loudly, clutching her stomach as the rumbling laughter rocked her lush frame, reaffirming his earlier certainty that she was utterly mad. This wasn't the reaction he'd anticipated she should be screaming bloody murder, not laughing merrily like a giddy school lass. _Blast these Kirkwall lambs; they'll be the death of ye' Vael!_

"That was the Vael demon people speak of?" She asked skeptically. "The holy grail of frightening, really that was it? You were as cute as a puppy Sebastian." She chortled.

"Ah am nae' cute like a puppy woman." Sebastian huffed defensively, his man pride taking yet another blow at this dusky woman's hands.

"You're right!" She said. Rolling so that she sat with her legs hanging over the bed. "In fact I've witnessed Mabari pups more threatening than you."

_She's baiting ye'. _Of course she was. A blind man would be able to see through her smoke screen. Her hands shook ever so slightly, as she brought them together to rest in her lap. Her eyes nervously flicked, to where another set of daggers sat on the opposite side of the room. And with a disgusted hatred for himself, Sebastian watched one of her shaky hands, rub at the other ones wrist, where he had held her. _Is the tender flesh already bruisin'?_ He wondered shame riding him hard.

Maker why couldn't she throw a fit like a normal lass? At least then he'd get what he deserved, but she wasn't a normal lass. If Sebastian had learnt anything from the mere days he'd spent in Kirkwall, it was that the ladies of the city were abnormal in everyway, ruthlessly strong and sinfully sexy. And he still had questions for her to answer.

"In Venus there's truth? What's a Venus?" He asked with more calm than he felt. But at least his inaudible brogue was smoothing.

"Venus isn't a what fool man, she's a who." Blowing on her nails Isabela leveled him with an annoyed glance, her voice an unusually rough tone. Another hint his outburst had affected her. "If you must ask so many questions, could you at the very least be sure to ask the correct ones, would that be so hard?"

Sebastian rubbed his temples his own annoyed, frustration starting to break the surface once more. "Okay Isabela, I'll bite. Who is Venus?"

"See not so hard at all eh? Venus is the goddess of sex. That's not all she is of course, but I must admit it is her most important job."

_More talk about false Gods? _Sebastian sneered, but waited for her to continue. Minutes passed over them in silence, before he realized that she wasn't going to say more, forcing him to come to his own conclusions.

"I'm not going to have sex with you, for the "truths" I seek Isabela, if that's what you're playing at."

"Ha!" She scoffed polishing her nails over her tunic "You're truly thee most arrogant man I've ever met Sebastian Vael. I have no intention of having you bend me over this bed and sink my battleship. If you weren't so bloody thick you'd realize you have your answers."

Standing abruptly she grabbed his hand placing a tiny metal trinket in his palm, wrapping his fingers into a fist with her own. "If you want to know about Marian Hawke, Knight-Commander." She whispered. "Then you must get past her false faces. But prepare yourself serha, because with Hawke nothing is ever as it seems. Once you open Pandora's box, you can never un-know its contents." With that, she left him standing dumbly, to register her cryptic words. Slowly he unfolded his hand to reveal a tiny, gold pendent of a proud hawk. Sebastian's hand ghosted to the chain around his neck. Unclasping it he let it settle next to the pendent Isabela gave him. This time his knees did buckle to the floor. _Marian Hawke! _Could it be? Was she his temptress and his merciful angel, a desire demon and a spirit of justice? Was that what Isabela was trying to show him? _You have secrets little mage. _

Lady Hawke was quickly becoming the most complicated puzzle he'd ever encountered; her pieces colored in platinum hues and cut into jagged pieces. _Lucky for me then, that puzzles are exactly my expertise_. Squeezing his palm closed Sebastian sat back on the heels of his boots, smiling to the ceiling. Aye, the Maker blessed him with keen eyes for a reason. Her mysterious world of secrets was his to infiltrate and by the time he finished, Sebastian would know her better than she did herself. _Bet on that lass._

**7-7-7**

"The Knight-Commander was asking Isabela about you." Fenris said a hint of curiosity in his otherwise calm words.

"Was he?" Marian murmured softy, mesmerized by how the Roses wall candles highlighted his beautiful elven profile. She'd been surprised to find Sebastian at the Hanged Man, even more surprised to see Carver choking him… _Hardly the diplomatic Viscount brother. _

"I fear I've been teasing him, Fenris." She felt her cheeks burn, when he glanced at her with a slight upturned twitch of his lips.

"Not wise Hawke, baiting a Templar so high up in command. Isabela has been a corrupting influence on you." _If only you knew dear wolf, the truths you speak, _Marian thought, picking at strands of her unruly hair.

"Actually, it's Gabriel who's pushed me into the Knight-Commander. He wants information and has fingered me as the perfect secret weapon. Being the haughty mage hostess, he assumes I'm exactly his brothers type."

"Reckless." Was Fenris's only reply, a dark shadow crossing over his handsome face.

"Perhaps so. But you know Gabe he gets what he wants, no matter who he has to throw to the wolves too do so." She shrugged her shoulders with more nonchalance than she felt in a weak attempt to mask her own nervous doubts.

"Indeed, he's intense, I'll give him that. Just be careful Marian you have much more to lose in this than Gabriel Vael." Again Fenris spoke truths he didn't know he spoke, but that wasn't what had Marian taking her arm from his and walking steps ahead of him. No, in fact it was his easy use of her name that had her flustered. Since their night together, had he ever used her name? _No_… It was always Hawke or Champion never Marian. But now he did, and the sound of her given name on his lips, made wounds she'd thought were long closed and well-healed now ache. As if foreign floodgates inside were being cranked open, a single tear slipped down her cheek. _This is nuts_! Fenris wasn't hers, nor would she ever dream of interfering between he and Orana, the elves were good for each other, better than she ever could have been for him. But the question of why he ran out on her was always there, lingering just below the feigned smiles and playful jests. _Why did you leave me, elf? _What was it about her that made everyone turn tail and run?

Entering the kitchen, she hastily set to work scrubbing the already pristine wooden counter top, her roughness pushing splinters into the cloth she used. She could feel his eyes watching her, curious, uncomfortable eyes digging deep holes into her back. He was trying to decide if he should question her and walk himself right into the dragon's den, or leave and save himself the hassle. Though she didn't know what had started this sudden flood, if he left, Marian was positive she'd never seek him out again. Now that the gates opened, she wasn't sure she could play pretend and skirt around their issues any longer.

Her neatly stacked house of cards was crumbling. All around her, broken aces and accusing queens began to fall away. _How long until the sacred king, at the very top, fell too? _She wondered miserably. These outbursts were so unlike her.

"Marian?" _So he's staying then, _his clawed hand settled gently on her shoulder, in an uncertain, attempt to comfort her.

"Why?" She blurted turning to face him, the single question forcing Fenris backwards a few steps, his mouth open with surprise.

"I don't understand Hawke." _Hawke… he's separating himself again, _making her a novelty, instead of the woman she wanted him to see.

"Hawke!" She screeched, furiously pounding his chest with balled fists, pent up anger and frustration for him and for her roiling hard over her. She wanted to hurt him like he had her and was livid with herself because of it. To want him to feel pain seemed like she was betraying him. She was no better than Danarius in her moment of cruelty, no better than the man who had branded lyrium into her wolf's skin and scarred his soul.

"Hawke stop this." She heard him say. A piece of her heart begged her to comply, but she couldn't halt her fists. Couldn't shut the inner gates on her fury. "I didn't know how to be loved!" Fenris growled, grabbing her wrists tightly.

"What?" She sobbed, her tear blurred eyes made him look like a runny water painting.

"I felt things Mari." He hesitated, raking a clawed hand through his winter, white hair. "I spent my entire existence as cold as ice, a flesh and blood golem. Then you happened, you bounded into my world with this energy, this zest for life I'd never encountered before. And as broken and ravished as I am, you wanted me!" He paused breathing deep, then focused hard on her again, gently swiping a fresh tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Even after all my misguided cruelty towards you and mages, you refused to turn your back on me. And even more shocking Mari, you saw me as more than just an ally or friend. You looked at me like a woman does a man she deems worthy of her bed. I've never met anyone like you. You see good in even the most evil of men." His shoulders slumped his chin touching his chest, "like me." He breathed thumb still on her cheek.

"Fenris, your not evil-"

"Shut up and listen Hawke." He snarled placing a hand over her mouth, and then growled at himself for his harsh treatment of her, punching the cabinet beside her head. _Still so feral was her little wolf. _"We spent the night together and it was as if my heart beat for the first time, the feelings that flooded… the emotion, all of it was foreign and frightening… So I ran because that's all I knew to do."

"Why didn't you talk to me? Anything would have been better than the silence. We are adults Fenris, we could have figured it out together," She hissed at him, her inner rubber band finally snapping.

"When, Hawke?" Fenris asked his left eye twitching, emerald orbs boring into her. "When did you give me a chance to talk to you? Should I have sat in the stables and chatted my feelings in your ear while you and Isabela had a go round in the hay?" He asked, the tip of his clawed thumb tapping her cheek. "Or what of Anders? I mean honestly Mari, did my come even have a chance to dry before you started fucking that abomination?" His beautiful face twisted menacingly, the sharp point of his gauntlet gouging the sensitive flesh of her cheek. Marian knew she should be afraid, but she felt nothing except rage. _How dare he!_

"Don't you dare try to turn this on me Fenris, you left, not me." Marian spat her fists meeting his chest again, this time in attempt to push him away from her. Instead he swayed closer blocking her in.

"I would have given you everything Mari, bonded my life to yours, and you couldn't even give me time to sort myself out, before you ran into another's arms?" The tension between them made the small kitchen rock. Fenris' skin glowed that eerie pale blue that marked his anger, in turn her magic quickly raced to the surface, responding to the surge of lyrium and passion that surrounded them.

"So we're to fight? Is this how it ends elf? You know what just finish it; take my heart! I won't even scream." She growled, holding her chest out to him, her face held stubbornly away from his.

"Oh would you two stop it." Orana scolded from behind them. Her slim frame puffed out, her face unimpressed. "Haven't you both been witness to enough tragedy, enough pain and desperation? This city is filled to the brim with starving children, sick folk and Templars that want nothing more than to burn her straight to ash. And you two have the audacity to stand in my kitchen, bitching about who's got it bad? Hawke go out there and be the Champion you're supposed to be, stop hiding behind all you petty faces." At Orana's words Fenris shook his head in agreement letting go of Marian.

"She's right Mari-"

"Don't start Fenris. I mean to rip a strip from you too, if you'd just be patient!" The little elf snarled. "You, my love, need to let go of this cancerous anger you've let burrow in your veins. You had it bad absolutely, but so did I. Do you see me whining about my lot in life? Stop playing the godforsaken victim." She pinned them both with a scorching gaze, her tipped ears twitching. "From where I stand you both have it pretty good. Your hardships have shaped you into the respected legends you are. You both have a roof over your pretty, thick heads, and people like me, who love you unconditionally. Be happy with that because Maker knows it's far more than what most of Kirkwall has. Little Nova would be deeply ashamed of both of you! Now get out of my kitchen. Supper is on the horizon and some of us have real problem's to contend with. Like how I am to feed Templar's, that weren't supposed to be my charges to see to in the first place." With that she swatted both of them with her heavy rolling pin, slamming the oak door in their stunned faces.

"Listen Mari, I'm sorry for everything. For the pain I caused in the past and the things I've said today." Fenris whispered, his eyes never leaving the door.

"Don't be." Marian sighed, a smile parting her lips. "I'm not." She continued, laughing at the way he measured her skeptically, before his eyes went back to the door, magnetized by the oak. _Or the hot-tempered chef… _"I'm not Fenris. It's the truth! This outburst from me was simply a long simmering pot and it boiled over. Yes it hurt that you left, but in the end, had you stayed, where would we be, unhappily together, or worse enemies? Both are horrifying options, aren't they?"

"You're so certain we'd be unhappy together Hawke?" He questioned curiously, eyes still focused on the door.

"I've seen the way you look at her elf." Both she and Fenris chuckled, when what sounded like a cast iron pan crashed with the door they still stood in front of, a string of curses following. "If we would have stayed together, you never would have allowed yourself to mingle with the spit fire behind door numero uno." Marian rapped the solid oak lightly; Fenris's head bobbing with the motion. "And that would be a travesty, I'm not willing to take part in, she is after all your better half." Marian smiled, while another tear slipped down her cheek, the salt burning the small gouge Fenris' gauntlet made.

"I've marred your flesh." Fenris growled at himself, removing one of his gauntlets to prod at the little wound. "I'm no better than a wild mutt."

"Because of this little scrape." She scoffed lightly, brushing a hand over his, bringing it to rest upon the tiny wound. Healing waves weaved from her hand to his, mending the flesh beneath with a gentle warmth. "Nothing that can't be healed with a little magic, dearest wolf." She purred, slowly pulling their hands from her face, to reveal perfectly unmarked skin. They stood like that for what seemed like decades, her hand on top of his. Their eyes peering into each other's souls.

"Will we ever be okay Mari?" He finally whispered, cutting the hazy silence.

"We've always been okay Fenris…. But now I believe with our wounds finally well stitched, and on the path to proper healing, we're far better than simply okay. Gods be damned we may actually have a shot at being real friends. Just one thing left to do."

"And that would be?" He asked curiously.

"I don't think you need this anymore." She answered pulling on the little, red scurf around his wrist. "You have a woman who treats you like the king you deserve to be. Why hold on to a banner like this one, of a woman who couldn't do the same?"

"I don't wear it in memory of you as a lover."

"No?" She needled, her inquisitiveness taking hold.

"No. I wear it to honor the warrior queen, who toppled my world head over arse and fought tooth and nail at my side. I wear it for Hawke, not Marian." He laughed lowly, chucking her under the chin.

"Aren't we both one in the same though little wolf?" She pondered, confused by the separation.

"Not even close." He returned, that and no more. "You wanted to speak with me?"

She blinked at him the sudden change in tide leaving her dazed and even more confused

"Wha… We are talking elf." Marian turned her head to the door when another crash came from within, more curses erupting with it.

"At the Hanged Man you sought me out. I assume this… Our meltdown wasn't what you had in mind." Fenris grated, his eyes locked on the door.

"Oh, Aye! About that… You've been watching Templar activity like I asked, yes?" She began, welcoming the distraction. Marian didn't cry, she hadn't in years, had even thought that she no longer could, but now that the waves had began to flow, Marian feared she'd wilt from dehydration if they didn't stop raining down her face.

"Of course I have." Fenris snorted indignantly.

"Good, cause I want maps. I need to know where all the Templar posts are, as well as where their patrols are heaviest." Marian paused noting in her head everything she needed the maps to say, then decided it would be easier just to tell Fenris where she wanted to go. "Okay to make it simple, I need to know how to get to Nova, on the Arainai farm, without spiking Templar curiosity."

"That's a long trek and foolish at best, down right dangerous at it's worst. Even for you Hawke. I can't, with good conscience give you what you seek." He said giving her the raised eyebrow of seriousness that he gave only when he was firm in a decision. _Be as firm as you want elf, I'm going to get those maps. _And she would get the maps, as stubborn as most every person in her life was, she could be, too, only a hundred times more so.

"Listen I know it's dangerous, but I need to see Nova. And I'm going to do it elf whether or not you help me. I suspect however if you give me the maps I seek the journey would be no more dangerous than a one on one fight with a drake. Without them however, I might as well be walking straight into the black void itself." She gazed up into his eyes, hoping to find her speech swaying his firm resolve, and was met only with stony resistance. _Bah, stubborn elf!_ She groused inwardly, it was time to kick up the pressure a notch… or two. "Well the black void it is. Bah-bye cruel world, you have been a wicked mistress." Marian whined dramatically her left forearm crossing over her eyes, her body swooning.

"Oh by the Gods Mari, I'll give you anything you want, if you promise I will never have to watch you swoon, ever again. You're acting very Orleasian, it's distressing to me that you look like Dulci de Launcet right now." With a soft sigh and slump of his shoulders Fenris relented. "I'll draw them up for you tonight and send them with Orana early tomorrow, as well as Carver's regular missive. Hawke if you get killed out there I refuse to stand at your funeral pyre. A man has to have limits on what he can take!"

Marian was no longer listening to his words. Instead she was in his arms kissing every inch of his face in merry thanks. She'd be seeing Nova tomorrow, what greater feeling could there be? _Absolutely none! _Collecting herself she stepped away from Fenris, the elf was as still as a statue, stunned by her outburst. Patting down her gold robes and scarlet locks she pinned him with a serious gaze.

"So what are you standing here for elf?" She rasped, almost laughing when he gasped out a breath, but couldn't speak. "Well?" She questioned raising an eyebrow and tapping a foot. "Listen little wolf, Orana won't be alone in that kitchen and completely on fire, as she is forever. If you plan to bend her over the sink and work out some stress with her, I fear you're quickly running out of time. So shake tail man! Get out of my face, I don't wanna see either of you till smiles twist your faces so deep, they get stuck like that." With that Marian twirled from him, only managing to count to three before the door to the kitchen opened than quickly shut, the lock clicking into place. She couldn't stop the laugh that bellowed from her. She threw her head high to the ceiling; hair dusting over her bottom and eyes squeezed shut. Tears began to roll down her cheeks once more, this time from the bubbles of laughter she emanated to the rafters. She felt as light as a feather. The buzz of sheer happiness was intoxicating. _Gods what it would be like to feel like this all the time_!

"Mistress Hawke?" Keran interrupted her uncontrolled cackling; clearing his throat, face marred with worry no doubt for her sanity. The young Corporal was making it a habit to catch her at the most inopportune times.

"Aye, serha Keran. It is grand to see you!" She greeted wistfully

"It is mum?" He questioned, cocking his head to the side to study her. "Are you feeling well ma'am?"

"I am! In truth, I feel better than well… Glorious even." Unleashing a wicked smile, Marian brushed past him to the stairs leading to her quarters. "Oh and Knight-Corporal," she drawled turning once more to the young Templar rooted to her hardwood floor. "I'm feeling generous today, so you are most welcome to anything in the lounge your heart desires… But I would recommend you stay away from the kitchen! I hear sinful things are taking place within. I wouldn't want you to peek through the keyhole and get all educated on your dear Divine." Marian winked, giving him a low dipping curtsy, she knew would display her well endowed chest and left him staring in shock at her swaying hips, for the second time. _Aye, B, you are corrupting!_

_A/N: So, I won't make it a habit to write these little blurbs, I promise, but I did want to say that yes, I know I'm using Gods from both Greek and Roman mythology, sorry in advanced, but I love mythology and wanted to mix it. Hopefully it doesn't offend anyone too badly._

_Much love_

_Thanks for being awesome!_

_-Scar _


	9. Chapter 9

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Nine_

Marian pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, cold air slapping her face as soon as she stepped out of the kitchen door. In these short December days, dawn was still a good two hours away. The snow-covered streets remained every bit as dark as it had been at midnight. She knelt to set the long metal tray down, gently banging it three times on the cobblestone path the way she did every morning. Before the second clang the cats had already began to appear, quick grey and black shadows racing toward the dish of Orana's finest.

"Come now you greedy babes, there's enough for everyone." She scolded two cats fondly as they tussled over a piece of chicken skin. "Don't I always see that there's plenty? Marian smiled wistfully, imagining how Nova would have insisted on true justice swatting the quarreling pair apart with a broom and awarding the chicken to a third, meeker cat instead. Fairness was very important to Nova's eleven year old idea of how the world should be, nearly as important as rising so early every morning to be here at Marian's side. _Every morning, that is until this week, _she thought bitterly._ Nay nothing fair about that, or this inquiry either._

"You'll be singing a different tune before this winter's out Mari…"

"By the Gods!" Marian leapt to her feet, nearly jumping out of her skin. "Make noise, or get a bell to wear Anders, I'm begging you!" She chided.

"But he's right Mistress." Orana grumbled. "You won't be tossing good food out for those mongrels, once the Templar's pick Kirkwall clean."

"I say the Templar's will be gone long before that happens." Marian declared, turning to comeback inside the warmth of the kitchen. "Why should they stay? There's no army here for them to fight, we've accommodated them, and have been peaceful all around. I assume they'll only stay long enough to boast that they've conquered us, and then they'll be off to Tevinter to fight an impossible war.

Anders and Orana both scowled shaking their heads in unison. "You've seen the mass amounts of Templar soldiers the Divine sent Mari. They aren't planning to simply boast they've conquered us; they will conquer us. Then maybe, if they feel like it they'll leave a city of ash in their wake." Anders responded, staring her down with stubborn ember eyes. Naturally he was right. Hadn't she herself, said something remarkably close, to Sebastian, just days ago?

"I agree," Orana chirped. "Those soldiers are a mean, ugly lot of men. I can see them staying here forever, just to be contrary."

"Well then," Marian began, throwing her chin high. "I'll pray that you both are wrong and that I'm right." Though some of her certainty slipped. She'd already done exactly that these past two sleepless nights, praying for only a single bone armored Templar to leave. An army of two thousand strong and counting would take no less than a miracle.

"Pray all you want Hawke. Neither the Maker, nor your Gods are listening, we've been abandoned." Anders exhaled dejectedly, plopping himself into one of the wooden chairs. Again she noticed how tired he looked, his face more gaunt, eyes more hallow. With a sigh she moved to him cupping her hand gently to his face. His eyes slid shut, head leaning heavily into her palm.

"When did you eat, or sleep last?" she whispered, though he didn't answer, already nearly asleep sitting up. "Anders I want you to take the back cellar to my room. The curtains are pulled tight and the doors infused with lyrium, you'll be safe to sleep there. Looking to Orana with worry she began "I need a favor I can only trust to you."

"Anything Mari, I owe you my life." Orana replied softly, moving to Anders to help Marian lift him from the chair. "And Mari I'm sorry for what I said yesterday it was-"

"The truth." Marian grinned fondly, interrupting her friends babbling. "Truth that I think Fenris and I needed a dose of, so thank you. Now Anders needs a bath and food, but I can't trust the staff to do it quietly. Will you see to his needs?"

"I can't rest Hawke." Anders slurred, "There's too much to do. Gabriel-"

"Can go hump a nug. You'll be no good to anyone already half dead and near delusional. If Gabriel Vael has a problem with you seeing to your own needs, then he can come speak with me. I will not be letting him run you ragged! The city and Templars aren't going anywhere today." Marian pressed, knowing a hot bath and clean bed were both too much of a luxury, for even Anders strong resolve to pass up. Resigning himself to her wishes, Anders shook his head in agreement. With a nod of thanks to the heavens and a sigh of relief, she handed her bedroom key to Orana. "If Gabriel comes calling for Anders, you beat him off with your rolling pin. And I'm not jesting." Marian grumbled; pinning Orana with a look she usually reserved for out of line drunkards.

"Beat Gabriel Vael with a rolling pin you say?" Orana asked clasping a hand over her heart, blinking her pale eyelashes rapidly. "Why mistress I thought you'd never ask." The little elf's snide jest launching them all into fits of laughter. Though everyone that surrounded Marian loved Gabriel as immensely as she herself did, they also all wanted to knock the man around too. He could be a gigantic prick and sometimes an overzealous zealot to everyone around him, and though he'd always seemed to be that way, after Maria's death he'd become worse, edging on tyranny.

"Did Fenris send maps, and a missive from my brother?" Marian inquired, not wanting to think too long on Gabriel, for fear he'd dampen her mood.

"Mhmm he did Mari the maps are on the table." Orana swept a small hand to the neatly folded parchment of paper that lay in the center of the heavy oak table. "And the missive," She hummed, helping Anders back into his seat, then diving her small hands into the pockets of her apron. Her wild search, spilling sweet treats she kept for Nova onto the ground. "It's… hmm… AHHA found you." Orana cooed triumphantly, holding a golden paper dragon out to Marian, before bending to clean up the candy she'd dumped on the floor.

Marian opened her brother's missive gently not wanting to rip the delicate Origami animal he'd created for her. They had learned the talent of paper folding when they were kids from the Arl of Redcliffe's wife. Though most saw the Orleasian chit as arrogant and rude, she was always kind to Marian and her siblings. On journeys into the city, she'd sit for hours teaching Mari and Carver the intricate craft of Origami. While at the same time she'd grace Bethany with teachings about Orleasian fashions. Entrancing all three Hawke siblings with her stories of grand ladies and racy gents.

Except now with the words that she'd revealed on the dragon's delicate paper, it no longer seemed so delicate, far from it. In fact it had become a hideous, fearsome beast mimicking the words it had decorated.

_Sister, _

_I'm not sure how to__…_

I_ don't know how to go about__… __Last night…_

_Ugh fuck me__!_

_Marian, two Templars are being charged with the rape of Maggie and Nera Ward. I'm doing my best to keep this quiet, but the Knight-Vigilant refuses to hand over his men to Aveline. He demands that they stand trial under the Divine's banner and if found guilty they will be hung by the neck till dead. But as you well know the Ward sisters are mages. I don't hold high hopes in the Divine's justice. _

_Sister, this is still our city, we could force the Knight-Vigilant to hand the blighted bastards to our guard. However it is your choice and I certainly don't envy you that. Whatever you choose I'll stand by it, just keep in mind, these women are our friends, our family and they deserve justice._

_I'll keep this news from Gabriel as long as I can. Be safe sister and don't wander about alone as you do, it's clear doing so is an abdominal mistake._

With Love

_Carver._

With a sorrowful sigh, Marian tossed Carver's missive away from her, watching it float gracefully to the ground. Seventy-two hours, that's all it had taken for the Templar's to show their true colors, to show the corruption that lingered beneath their pristine uniforms. Three days away from the Divine's leash and now Marian was being forced to make the hardest decision of her life. Interfere with the Templars and likely start a full-blown war? Or let them deal with their own, and sit back while the Ward sisters never get to bask in the justice that's rightfully theirs?

"Mari are you all right? What did Carver have to say?" Orana questioned bending to pick up the note Marian had let fall. Quickly she collected herself snatching the missive from the little elf's hands.

"Aye Orana everything is well, at least as well as it can be with such strong Templar influence." She attempted to be chipper, not wanting Anders to pick up on her distress. The man needed to rest, if he got wind of this now he'd be gone as quickly as he'd came. Flipping Carvers missive over, she grabbed a quill and ink to scribble her decision. Choking back a sob she wrote the words any cold, hard, unfeeling diplomat would.

_Dearest Brother_

_To interfere with the Templars would incite war and hundreds, if not thousands of our Kirkwall family would fall victim to it. What happened to the Ward sisters is unfortunate. But to start war and watch our people get slaughtered in the streets would be unforgivable. So with a heavy heart I choose to let the Templars extract the pound of flesh they see fit from two of their own for once._

_I appreciate your discretion in this; though I fear Gabriel has likely already heard._

XOXO

_Mari._

Folding the golden sheet of parchment into a pretty swan, Marian twirled to face Orana. "I have one more favor to ask if that's alright?"

"Of course mistress, but your frightfully pale. What has happened is Merrill well, the baby it's-" Orana broke off, eyes scanning the kitchen. "I have herbs, and you have healing we could-"

"Calm yourself Orana, Merrill and the babe are fine." _Aye, but things are much worse. _"I need you to get this back to Carver as soon as possible, though Anders is still your number one priority." Leaning close to the elf she whispered. "Read the letter, it's important, but don't let Anders see it." Pulling up the hood of her cloak, Marian looped the basket she'd prepared with Orana's jam cakes over her arm and then slinked towards the kitchen door.

"Where will you be Mari?" Orana and Anders asked simultaneously

"You haven't the faintest notion if anybody asks." She replied cryptically, looking to them over her shoulder.

"But I do." Orana grumbled her pretty face twisting in unhappy worry. "Anyone who knows you can guess you're off to see Nova. My jam cakes only make it certain."

"No it doesn't," whispered Marian, "and I've no intention of telling either of you any more one way or the other. That way you can answer truthfully if you're asked." Quickly she pulled on her gloves, hoping the gesture would mask the horror she felt. Had Fenris told Orana where Marian planned to go? _Or am I really so bloody transparent?_ She'd been determined not to visit Nova, at least not until the situation in the city was better settled. But that had been before Sebastian showed up on her doorstep, needing her help. _Needing me…NO. _He hadn't sought her out. By the Gods! He'd practically begged her to leave him in the untried hands of his Knight-Corporal. She was the one who hadn't been able to resist forcing her care and concern, on him.

She gave her head a little shake, trying to toss away the shameful memory. "I've every intention of returning to se too what paying guests we do have by dinner. You may tell them that if they ask." Refusing to let her change the subject Orana continued to push.

"I do wish you'd take someone with you Hawke. Fenris would be more than happy and instead of his maps, he could be there to insure you got to Rana's without hassle. A lady like yourself, alone in the streets with those Templars… Well it just worries me. At least take your late husband's crossbow!"

"Oh, yes! And shoot myself in the foot for good measure. All the Divine's men would tremble in terror at the sight of me with a crossbow bolt through my foot, that m'dear is for certain." Sighing at the angered glare Orana gave her, Marian tossed her hands in the air the basket dangling heavily from her shoulder. "It was a joke Orana, I'll be fine. You act as if I'm a gentle mage flower. I'm Kirkwall's Champion for Gods sake."

"Orana's right though Hawke." Anders interjected, swaying dizzily in his chair. "We're mages, their the Divine's most efficient Templar's. They are capable of swatting our magic away like one would a pesky fly."

"I have Isabela's daggers." Marian scoffed; a little perturbed her friends seemed to think her weak. "You know the sharp, golden ones I took the Arishok down with?"

"But Mari there are packs of them-"

"This is my city Anders, my home and my life. None of which is the Divine's affair. I refuse to be cowed into hiding, by a pack of bullying Templars. I'm sorry!" With her brave words lingering in the room, she marched out of the kitchen door, leaving the Rose before her friends could push their doubts, into her head. However, with every step Marian took away from the safety of her cozy tavern, doubts laid their nasty seeds into her certainty. In her haste to leave Orana and Anders behind, she'd also forgotten the maps Fenris had drawn up for her. And being proud as she was going back to get them, was simply out of the question. _Walking blind Mage? Beauty._ Her heart began to quicken and hands grew damp in her gloves. The brave words she'd spoken quickly turning into a great bluff.

She was a fool and as impulsive as Carver. Letting instinct guide her, she kept to the narrower side streets, hanging close to the houses and shops, where her footsteps would make less sound on the snowy cobblestone. She hummed her Hawke possible theme song, in an attempt to soothe squealing nerves. Twice she heard men's voices, the heavy clanking of their armor marking them as her enemy. Both times she'd managed to dart through alleyways to avoid them, her heart pounding so loud, she had feared they'd hear it.

By the time Marian finally reached the edge of the city limits, dawn was a pale glow through the bare winter trees on the horizon. Quickening her steps, she breathed a great sigh of relief, glad to be rid of the city. From what she'd picked up through gossip, the Templar's were concentrated in the city and around the docks. That they didn't seem to be bothering with the more isolated farms scattered across the land. To be safe though, she left the road trekking instead through the fields. With her skirt bunched in one hand and the basket in the other, she climbed over the low stonewall that marked the boundary of the Arainai farm.

When at last she saw the smoke curling from the old brick chimney of her cousin's house, the sun had risen fully stretching an ember colored band across the sky. Marian's fingers and toes were numb from the cold, her cheeks stung with it, but she was nearly running the final steps through the orchard, eager to see her daughter. To her joy, Nova was outside, helping Rana draw a bucket of water from the well. Like a crazed woman Marian dropped her basket, running through the orchard calling out to the girl her arms waving madly. Nova's head raised at once, her face bright with identical excitement, turquoise eyes searching for Marian.

Only a week separated from her daughter, but it felt like a lifetime since they'd last saw each other, _how did I do it before? _It was a question she had asked herself often, in the year she played the role of mom. Every time Nova would come rushing into the Rose eyes bright Aveline in toe, with a report of how the young girl had disarmed one of her guards in a duel, Marian's heart would leap with happiness and pride. And she'd always wonder, in the girl's infectious excitement, how she had ever managed to spend so much time away.

"Nova here!" She shouted, arms still flailing erratically over her head. "I'm over here!"

Without another glance at Rana, Nova took off in a lope towards Marian, her robes flying high around her legs, the hood of her cloak falling back from her hair. She threw herself into Marian's outstretched arms, wriggling like an excited puppy, tightly linking her small arms around her mothers waist, her head still only reaching Hawke's chest. Her slight stature one of the few things she hadn't received from her father.

"Oh mama, you said you'd come and you did!" She cried, her words tumbling over themselves in her excitement.

"Aunt Rana said you wouldn't be able to. At least not for a few weeks, but I knew you wouldn't leave me that long and you didn't, you didn't!" She shoved herself back, impatiently shaking her hair from her face. "You have been feeding the cats, haven't you?" She asked her heart-shaped face turning serious. "You made sure the little ones got their share too? Aunt Rana and Uncle Z have cats in their barn, but they're so fat from mousing that they ignore the scraps I bring them."

"Of course I feed them. Extra in fact! Orana and Uncle Anders scold me for it."

"Well, good." Nova stated her hands firm on her hips. "They can scold me too, starting first thing tomorrow morning. Now I'll go get my things, so we can leave."

"Nova my child wait a moment."

"Why?" The girl's smile widened. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be home. It won't take long at all; I kept everything folded neat in my bag the way you packed it. I wouldn't take anything out, even though Uncle Z said I should, because I knew you'd be coming for me and wanted to be ready."

"Oh, Nova." Marian sighed her heart sinking. "We need to talk my love." But what would she say? How would she tell Nova the danger hadn't past, that this was only a visit? Gently she reached out and took the girl's hand in her own, smoothing back a lock of Nova's hair, hair so different from her own. Not fire red and unruly, but thick and honey-brown, only tints of red lacing the silken strands, _her father's hair. _Yes her father's hair, his eyes, his impossibly long lashes and the same perfect bow of his smile. All of it unquestionably like, Sebastian Vael. _Gods!_ Was it only her guilt, her shame that made her find his mark everywhere on their daughters face? Or like Isabela had, would everyone else be able to see it too?

Just thinking of the strong willed, strong jawed, Knight-Commander, Marian resigned herself to the knowledge she was about to break her precious daughter's heart. Hardening her own she set her hands firmly on Nova's shoulders. "I can't take you home with me my love." She said as gently as she could, while still keeping her tone firm. "Not just yet, but I promise-"

"Why not?" Cried Nova, stunned enough that her voice squeaked, "you told me it wouldn't be long. You said I'd only have to stay here until Kirkwall was safe again!"

"And it's still not, Nova, not yet." Said Marian quickly, hating herself for the hurt she saw in her daughter's eyes. "You're much safer here with Aunt Rana. Away from Kirkwall's trouble!"

"But I don't care mama!" Nova screeched urgently. She was trying hard not to cry, willing herself to be brave, her hands clutching Marian's fore arms. "I don't care about Aunt Rana or Uncle Zevran and I don't care about the trouble, I want to go with you. I want to go home!" Marian sighed unhappily, as she watched her daughter's eyes swirl from turquoise to grey, the animal inside waking with its hosts quick changing emotions. Nova's shifter magic, one of the few things she'd received from her mother.

Depending on the situation Marian could either shift into a pure white hawk, or black as night wolf. But Nova was too young, the animal a babe, not quite mature enough yet to safely show itself fully. Still, the swirling of the girl's eyes marked her as different, as rare and with all the Templars running about, they'd both be hung for blood magic because of it. Marian didn't fear the holy noose, not in the least, could even stomach it happily as long as Nova stayed safe. _Then make sure she stays here Hawke!_ "I'm sorry love, but I can't take you just yet. You're much safer here. The town's too full of Templars, thousands of them. There's even a good amount living under our roof, marching around the Rose like she's their own private parade ground." But Nova scarcely heard her mother, her face twisting with fear, disappointment and resentment.

"You don't care what happens to me, not really! You say you shipped me off, to keep me from the Templars, but there's been Templars here too, bunches of them, and you don't even care." Marian looked away from Nova, desperately trying to mask the fear she felt.

"Templars, here, Nova when?

"Yesterday afternoon, Mari." Rana said as she joined them, her staff slung over her back and a sword on her hip, the weapons a grim contrast to her welcoming smile. "A whole gang of them. In their shiny white armor and over the top horned helms."

"Oh Nova, love forgive me, I didn't know." Marian soothed pulling her daughter into her embrace once again.

"Relax, Nova was safe enough with the Warden-Commander and her crow assassin of a husband." Rana said, letting her staff slide from her shoulder, to the ground, leaning on it heavily. "You've raised a brave girl Mar. We were both sick in bed and deathly ill, weren't we Nova?" Marian's mask fell, the fear she tried to hide rising to the surface.

"Ill!" she croaked placing a hand on Nova's forehead to check if she was warm with fever.

"We were playing mama." Nova smiled in spite of herself. "When the Templars tried to come into the house Uncle Z told them that Aunt Rana and me were sick." Rana chuckled deeply, her wispy blonde-mane dancing about her fair, round face, violet eye shimmering with amusement.

"Nothing an army fear's more, than the blighted taint sweeping through their camps. Zevran met them at the door, out of sorts and sad-faced, while Nova and I lay beneath the blankets upstairs, bellowing as if the Reaper himself was reading us our last rites. I even used a glamour charm in case they dared come up, they would have gotten an eyeful of scabbed skin and a good solid sniff of decay. Not that they did, Maker, Marian you should have seen them, they couldn't get off our porch fast enough pushing and stumbling over each other."

"But they could comeback?" Marian challenged, protectively clutching Nova closer. Her family's trick was clever indeed, far cleverer than anything Marian herself could have come up with. _Naturally._ Rana and Zevran, along with their own band of misfits, had bargained and tricked their way through a blight and taken down an Arch demon. A demon that no one who struck the final blow should have come back from, yet here she stood, tall, pale and gloriously alive, in front of Marian. Their wily ways, mixed with their farmstead being so far from the city limits, were the reasons Marian had trusted Nova to her cousin. Still Marian couldn't help, but consider taking Nova back to Kirkwall, with her.

"Calm yourself Mari, you're always coiled so tightly." Rana chided, like she'd read Marian's thoughts. "They won't come back, not once word travel's around all the camp's and outposts," she declared, smiling wickedly. "You'll see. Fear of blight sickness, is better than any raised weapon, or magic." Her smile faded suddenly, her pretty violet eyes darkening, while she tapped her cheek thoughtfully with the ball top of her staff. "But you coming out here all by yourself, that wasn't smart dear cousin. Especially not if things are as bad in the city as Zev's heard. I don't even want to consider what those Templar's may do to a lady such as you without Divine Justinia's leash on em.

Marian felt how Nova stiffened, then squished herself closer. On instinct Marian hugged the girl in reassurance, though she couldn't decide who would be receiving the most comfort from the embrace. "I didn't see a single soul all the way out here, Reigns. And I doubt I will on the walk home either. As for us in the city, the rumors are true. I've at least an entire regiment housed under the Rose's roof, but I also have their Commander staying with me as well. I suspect him capable of keeping his men in line and well-behaved."

"Then why can't I come home?" Nova said stubbornly, turning her turquoise gaze up at her mother. "If it's safe enough for you, it should be just as safe for me too!" Looking into her daughters pleading face, she wondered if perhaps Nova would be safer at home, where Marian, herself could keep watch over her. They could have coconut snowballs and a cup of coco together in Nova's room before bed, as was their ritual.

"Please mama," Nova begged. "Please!" The girl blinked rapidly, beating back unshed tears, the tiny crystals pooling on her lower eyelashes. The morning sun reflected off the clear pearls, magnifying Nova's eyes turning them into brilliant, dancing lovers, identical to Sebastian's. Slowly Marian shook her head, steeling her heart once again, against her daughter's precious tears. She had too. She didn't have a choice. She could never forget that the greatest danger to them both had nothing to do with the inquisition at all.

With Marian's refusal Nova turned from her, the girls face ghosting into an icy mask, she marched off towards the house, arm's crossed, head hung low. The perfect picture of a broken heart, it cracked Marian's own heart right down the center.

"Don't worry Mar," Rana whispered. "Nova is a strong of heart girl. She looks like a broken doll now, but I guarantee we make it to the house and she'll be smiling like an angel." Marian shook her head in agreement, knowing her cousin was right, but she didn't take comfort in it, after all, Marian herself was the queen of false faces. Nova's mask would be pretty indeed, but her happiness wouldn't caress her young eyes, as it should. _Damn Sebastian Vael and is intrusive order!_

**1-1-1**

She had stayed too long, far longer than she'd intended and now she was racing for Kirkwall against the darkening sky. When she'd arrived this morning, Marian had taken pleasure in the empty fields. But reading Carvers missive and listening to Zevran's unending tails had changed her pleasure to stark fear. Every shadow, stonewall or bare oak was now a Templar solider lurking. She longed for the moment that the grand city broke into view.

Wearily she shifted her basket from one hand to the other. Rana had replaced the cakes with a brick of butter and fresh eggs, packing the presents in straw. The gifts had been thoughtful. And with the markets closed until the Templars allowed trading ships to dock, her cousin's gifts were a luxury; both Marian and Orana could use and appreciate. But at the moment the basket was heavy and dug into her palms, fitting since she felt the same digging, heaviness in her soul for leaving Nova behind.

Marian shifted the basket again, flexing her cold stiffened fingers in her gloves. The wind had changed since this morning, now coming from the west and the clouds hung low, pregnant with fresh snow. _Excellent! _She thought miserably, just another reason to loathe the day. "Could you make it any worse? I mean seriously!" She barked to the sky, climbing over another stonewall.

"You there halt!" The soldier's words echoed across the empty field. The bowstrings being pulled back were as loud as the snapping of a heavy oaks stump. _Timber…er…er…er_… Taunting the sky was never a blessed decision!


	10. Chapter 10

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Ten_

"You. Ma'am, stay right where you are!

"Are you joking?" Marian grumbled. "You want me to halt right here, straddling this wall? She continued, figuring they wouldn't actually shoot her, at least not yet. "Just perched up here, like this cold stone's a prized show horse? Alright if that's how you wish it serha… HIGH HO SILVER AND AWAY!" She bellowed at the top of her lungs, digging her heels into the wall, urging it to move. _Stop this Marian! _Her sane mind pleaded, but she couldn't, she was too tired and too unhappy to care that she mocked Templars.

The soldier's mouth hung open, his eyes wide, unsure of what to make of her display and as a Corporal, too young to know what to do about her. "Are you alone then?" He demanded sharply.

Jerking her head over her right shoulder she scanned the bare fields behind her, sweeping her arm around in a grand gesture. "Do you see anyone else?"

"We take no chances, ma'am," he retorted, with more force than she thought the young man capable of. "Rebels are not to be trusted." He continued, but motioned the two men beside him to lower their bows.

"Oh by the God's," Marian scoffed, letting herself float to the ground. "Who says I'm a rebel hmm?" Furiously, she planted her hands on her hips, pinning the men with malice in her eyes. "Is it tattooed across my forehead in bold lettering? Where is my staff? My bow and daggers? Or is it your almighty prig, of a Divine's orders, to accuse an unarmed woman of being dangerous to the Chantry?

"My orders are to trust no one from Kirkwall, man nor woman." He answered gruffly _He might still shoot you Hawke! _"I'm to take you to the camp for questioning.

"I'm not going to your camp serha. I have a business to tend to and as it is I'm already late. I've done nothing wrong and feel no need to submit to your false accusations." Letting her refusal wash over her Templar accusers, Marian turned taking a step toward the road that marked just how close she'd come to being home. Immediately the hissing of the bows behind her sounded. _Nocked at me…BEAUTY! _She froze, sighing. Persuading men, young and old into doing as she wished, was a necessary skill of a tavern keep and Viscountess. A skill that had served her well the past nine years, only ever failing her with the Arishok, and now apparently the young Knight-Corporal. "Surely you can let me pass Corporal," she cooed, her voice sweeter than honey. "A gentleman of your experience can surely see that I-"

"I'll be hearing none of your rebel trickery, ma'am."

_BALLS! _This day was simply just not working in her favor. "Good thing I have no trickery to offer. Truly what use could I be to you in your camp? I don't have answers to your questions. So unless you need to be taught how to cheat at Wicked Grace, or chug Dwarven Ale… Ohhhh wait," Marian hissed in a breath, feigning innocence. "You can't drink ale, right?" She continued to mock. "I really don't see how I'd be of service to you then." Instead of winning his favor, her speech only seemed to disgust him further, his eyes turning dark with hatred and mouth curling into a cruel grin._ Way to win him over Hawke._

"Oh, Aye, all you rebel's are the same, all so harmless. So it wasn't you or your kind that killed my mates in Tevinter?" She shook her head hard, feeling the heat of his accusations punch her in the gut; absolutely appalled he'd have the nerve to compare her to Tevinter's tyranny.

"I'm sorry for your friends," she began sincerely. "But I can't be accused of-"

"Orders are orders, ma'am," he barked. "You're coming with us." _Double balls!_

The camp he spoke so highly of was nothing more than a flag of the flaming swords and tents surrounding it. Dozen's of men were gathered around a fire with their hands outstretched to catch the warmth, it's flames nearly kissing the sky. _No wonder_, she groaned. The soldiers had pulled down a rail fence, which had been there as long as she could remember to build the outraged fire.

"We found her running across the field to the north sir," Marian heard the Corporal say, as he pushed her into the ring of firelight. "She resisted sir."

Marian glared daggers through the young Corporal." I wished only to return to my home before nightfall and this senseless swine," she growled jabbing her index finger into the man's plated chest. "Prevented me from doing so. I'd hardly call that resisting, and it-"

"Search her basket." Ordered the Sergeant ignoring her completely.

"Hey you bloody bastard that's mine," Marian shrieked indignantly. "You have no right!"

"Quiet you slattern, we have every right," roared the Sergeant impatiently, "in the name of the Divine and for the safety of her loyal subjects."

"You act as if we're at war serha. Is this not supposed to be only an 'inquiry'?" She demanded bitterly.

"Aye ma'am it is. We're inquiring what's inside your basket." He mocked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Then tell me Sergeant, is my butter and eggs so important you waste my time and yours?" She lunged for the basket, but before she could take it back, another Templar seized her arm, roughly pulling her aside. Marian struggled hard to free herself, being subdued further by the Sergeant's heavy plated foot on the hem of her cloak, jerking the ties tight across her throat, making her stumble backwards clumsily.

Jeering laughter circled the campfire; so loud the Sergeant was forced to yell over it. "Such bold talk will not gain you happiness here you little whore. If you've nothing to hide, then you've nothing to fret over."

Ferocious fury rocked her, instantly stirring the protective dark wolf from his deep slumber. _No not here!_ Marian pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut to shield her swirling blue orbs. If she shifted here, in the middle of the Templar camp it would be a massacre. The guardian wolf could take down nearly two-dozen of these men and women before Marian's magic was silenced, and once it was she'd be executed for being a blood mage. If that happened the city would burn, her grand ashes soaked in innocent blood. If these men slaughtered Marian, it would be a clear declaration of war.

By the Gods, thinking was becoming impossible, her animal senses sharpening. She could hear small animals scattering in the forest a quarter mile away, could feel the wolf brushing against her insides, and though it appalled her, Marian could even smell a soured, milk scent, wafting from the Sergeant's embarrassing case of Chlamydia. Hmm someone's been a naughty Templar. Marian chortled silently, the dark wolf howling his appreciation for her smug contemplation.

**7-7-7**

"Let the woman go, Sergeant, Bondy." Said Sebastian quietly, from the height of his horse's back. "Let her go now." Every Templar's face whipped around to look at him. By the firelight Sebastian saw surprise, guilt, disappointment, fear and resentment as they all jumped to attention, and he felt his own anger rise in response. He'd been a soldier himself too long to expect more from his men than was reasonable, but the Divine's orders regarding civilians, no matter what their sympathies, was clear as day. They were to be treated with the utmost respect. What would have happened to this poor woman, if he and Keran had not been drawn from the road, by the light of their fire?

"She was acting suspicious sir," whined Bondy defensively. "That and talking treason sir. I thought she might be smuggling lyrium in her basket."

Sebastian let a moment pass, his gaze stony. "And what Sergeant, was she in fact carrying?"

"Butter and eggs Knight-Commander Vael," seethed the woman, pushing her way into the ring of firelight. "And I'm certain, not even you sir, can find any sin or danger in that.

Only years of practice kept Sebastian's face impassive when he realized whom the woman was. Knight-Corporal Keran wasn't so trained.

"Mistress Hawke, ma'am. What in the Black Divine-?"

"Have respect for the Lady's sensibilities, Keran." Said Sebastian interrupting him. "Mistress Hawke, ma'am. I never would have expected to find you here."

"I might well say the same to you Knight-Commander," she growled raising her chin a fraction higher. While most woman would have been wailing in fear, or weeping with gratitude, Mistress, Marian Hawke only seemed furious. "You see Knight-Commander, unlike you and your pack of wild dogs. I actually have reason to be crossing the Arainai field."

"Please Lady Hawke, tell me what that reason might be?" He asked coolly, staring down at her upturned face. "Where, were you going at this hour with your butter and eggs?"

"I wasn't going I was coming." She said rubbing her arm where one of his men had held it. With a frown he wondered if the man had hurt her. Despite all her bravado Marian Hawke wasn't a large woman, her body crafted incredibly, delicately. "I spent the day healing at the house of a friend whose wife and daughter are ill with the taint. The eggs and butter; were given as a small token of his thanks for my magic that was all.

"Impossible!" Bondy spat. "The taint ain't curable and hasn't been in this land since the blight, nearly eleven years ago." Against his brash words though, Sergeant Bondy joined the rest of the Templars in taking a good healthy step away from the little mage for good measure. Sebastian couldn't blame them, a mage powerful enough to treat blight sickness, or the blight sickness itself, were the last things an army of Templars wanted to deal with. And Marian Hawke would know that well.

In another place, Sebastian would have joined the rest in keeping a healthy distance from her… But in Kirkwall, any inhabitants who fell sick from the blight; were immediately taken into isolation per the Viscount's orders and made comfortable until they passed on. How careless of Marian to have forgotten her brother's law. How fortuitous that he himself had remembered. But what or who- did she hope to protect by lying?

"You'd be shocked Serha," she sneered, cutting into Sebastian's thoughts, her sharp words directed at Sergeant Bondy. "What good magic can do, when it's unleashed and given the proper respect to truly work."

"Magic is a curse you fool chit, nothing more!" Bondy snarled back, the muscle beneath his left eye twitching. Sebastian however decided to stay quiet, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

"A curse you say," she scoffed, tossing her hands on her hips. "Well, I do say my curse could clear up that burning, itch betwixt your thighs, as a bloody after thought. It's clear you serha weren't warned, that though pirates are fun for a tumble, that often, in the aftermath, they leave unwelcome surprises." _Aye completely inevitable!_

Sergeant, Bondy stumbled further away from her. His mouth gaped wide, while his peers surrounded him, all nearly exploding, with their failing attempts, to keep from laughing.

"Someone's been naughty," The little mage giggled, "Bet you wish the Divine let you bring a mage, or two with you eh?" She finished, a triumphant smile caressing her pretty face, while she hammered the final nails into Bondy's pine coffin.

Stifling his own laughter Sebastian looked with intrigue to her forgotten basket at Bondy's feet. "So which is it Sergeant, eggs and butter, as the lady says, or lyrium? Hurriedly Bondy collected himself, likely glad the attention had been taken off of him. He plunged his hands beneath the checkered cloth, rummaging through the straw.

"Be careful you ox," Marian snapped, when one of the eggs tumbled over the edge of the basket breaking on impact. Sebastian heard the Sergeant grouse under his breath, but he heeded her words, gently pulling out three more eggs, holding them up for Sebastian's inspection.

"Very well Sergeant Bondy, you were wise to be cautious." Amused, Sebastian kept his surprise to himself. After the taint story, he would have wagered five sovereigns on the lyrium. "Return the basket to the lady." Sebastian ordered, watching as she took the basket, her plump lips curling up into a celebratory smirk she didn't bother to hide. Her boastful swagger made Sebastian want to smile too. With her basket in hand, she marched out of the camp alone, into the dusk, her head still held high and her skirts sweeping like the Queen's across the snowy grass. The picture she painted did make him laugh this time. Misplaced and foolhardy as it was, how could he not admire such brazen confidence? "Mistress Hawke, ma'am." He called after her. "I didn't give you leave to go."

**7-7-7**

Marian sighed. She should have known it had all been too easy, and slowly she turned back to face him. "I didn't realize Knight-Commander Vael, that I needed your leave, for me to return to my home."

"Your home and my quarters ma'am. Come." He sat on his tall black stallion's back, looking so impervious and handsome as he beckoned her. "You'll be riding with me."

"Oh no…No, no. I don't wish to ride with you!" She protested, horrified by the intimacy double riding would call for. _Maker the friction!_ The thought on it's own, had Marian clenching her thighs together. "Umm- that is you're too kind Knight-Commander, but I much prefer to walk for it's-" She hesitated, scanning twilight's, midnight sky and flexing her frozen fingertips. "For it's such a pleasant evening and we are so near town.

"It's an abominably wretched evening, ma'am," said Sebastian calling her out and guiding his horse toward her, "with a chill that cuts straight to the bone. Keran can finish here. You are my landlady and as such, I feel a certain responsibility to you. Now come."

Wildly Marian shook her head, backing away, with the basket clutched in front of her like a broad sword. Why wasn't the hawk rising at Marian's desperate desire to flee? The dark wolf had instantly gone back into slumber when he had sensed Sebastian for reason's she hadn't wanted to analyze, she'd simply been thankful. But flying away right now would be bloody nice. _Anytime you're ready hawk! _"I told you, I do not wish it, and I- no!" Her angered wail of protest, died off as two Templars hoisted her onto Sebastian's horse, setting her in front of him. She gasped at the electric contact, trying to pull away from him, and tug her skirts back over her legs at the same time. She felt the big stallion shied nervously because of her scrambling, forcing her to grab a chunk of his mane to keep from being tossed over his sleek neck. The jolt gave her a dizzying view of the ground spinning far below her, and the grinning faces of the two soldiers that had tossed her on the stud, before she felt Sebastian's sure, steadying hand at her waist, drawing her back into the warmth of his chest.

"Easy now, I won't let you fall." Soothed Sebastian in a soft, low, purr to placid both she and the stallion, she was disconcerting. "Didn't I tell you I felt a certain responsibility for your well-being?"

By the Gods! Responsibility was one thing. Being pressed close to this man's chest, with her legs sprawled open over his thighs wantonly, was quite another. Instinctively Marian tried once again to edge away from him, but with his arm curled securely around her waist, her attempts only served to make her more painfully aware of his body against hers. In his pearl white uniform, he was so large and strong and warm and too totally male, beside him she felt vulnerable, small and seventeen all over again.

_No, _she thought bitterly. No! She'd sworn after Sebastian, Fenris and finally Anders, that never again would she let herself be hurt by any man. Especially not by the same man who had so carelessly destroyed her innocence, setting into motion the snowball effect that had shaped her life.

The basket with the eggs and butter was thrust up into her hand and she felt the hard muscles of Sebastian's thighs shift beneath her arse, as he urged the stud into a lazy walk.

Taking their leave from the camp, one of the soldiers nearest the fire said something Marian couldn't quite make out. But by the rumble of crude, male laughter that followed, she knew she would be hexing the man into falling in love with a cactus before the order left Kirkwall.

**7-7-7**

Sebastian felt how she stiffened against him, as they cut out across the empty field, toward the road. She was lighter than he'd expected, her body warm and soft beneath her wool cloak. So soft and warm, that he had to force his thoughts elsewhere abruptly, or risk shaming himself.

"You're not much for riding, are you Lady Hawke? He asked, letting his lips brush her ear, mimicking her own actions of two nights prior. Her hood had slipped back from her fiery, crimson curls, whipping them against his cheek in the wind. "But you can trust Adonis. I know he looks quite the brute, but he's the steadiest mount in all of Kirkwall, I'd wager my Templar status on it."

"Then you'd be quickly stripped of your brilliant armor serha. You've clearly never met Casey. That being said it's not your horse that I mistrust, Knight-Commander."

"Ah, the one conclusion you leave me is not very flattering."

"The truth often isn't." She twisted to face him, her eyes glowing their supernatural blue. "First I'm stopped from my business and accused of smuggling lyrium, LYRIUM! in my basket of all places.

"It was done by the rebel woman in Tevinter," said Sebastian sharply, but the little mage wasn't listening.

"Next, you order me thrown across your saddle and carried off quite against my will. Exactly, serha, like the arrogant, Maker loving, untrustworthy, bully that you unquestionably are!"

The sound deep in Sebastian's throat was more animal than man, a low rumbling title wave he couldn't hold back. "That Mistress Hawke is hardly the thanks that I expected."

"Thanks?" She fumed, eyebrows shooting skyward. In one swift motion he felt her rock forward, than pain exploded between his eyes, her elbow connecting with his nose, knocking him off Adonis' back. "Thanks you expected?" She snarled baring her teeth at him. He watched in awe as she brought his rearing horse into a steady walk. The big animal beneath her complying easily with her wishes, something he only ever did for Sebastian. Shaking himself of the admiration he felt for her, Sebastian stood, twisting his head here and there, to follow his commandeered horse, which circled him and the woman who held the reins. The look he gave her now beneath his helm, had reduced many soldiers to helpless quivering piles of goo.

"Aye, Lady Hawke, thanks! When Keran and I came upon you, you were a lone rebel woman surrounded by a group of rough, hostile men."

"Your men, Knight-Commander." She growled, punctuating her anger by launching a fireball at his feet. Still directing Adonis to circle him.

"I know that, Lady Hawke," he said, words clipped, "just as I know how sorely the frustration and fear and uncertainty of this blasted rebellion, can try even the best of them."

"But I fail to see-"

"Oh no Lady Hawke. You'll be hearing me out." Sebastian ordered so harshly she fell silent, bringing Adonis to a halt. "This day alone I've witnessed two of my best men arrested and charged with rape. If they are found guilty, they will be hung, their bodies refused a proper pyre and their souls denied a place at the Maker's side. As is the Divine's justice, and yet I didn't wish such a fate for those men we just left. Nor, Lady Hawke, did I wish it for you."

Her only response to his words was to pull up the cloak of her hood and shift in the saddle, so that he could get back on, her eyes glued to the road ahead. He hadn't expected her to thank him, not really, but he was surprised at how much he wished she had.

**7-7-7**

Her anger forgotten, Marian let the sickening truth of what Sebastian said replay again and again in her head. She knew his words were true, had read the missive from Carver. But even if she hadn't read it, didn't Orana, Anders and Rana warn her of the same danger? And still she'd been too selfishly, stubborn. Too prideful to listen. She'd heard enough in the tavern of the disgusting atrocities committed by both sides, to know the danger she'd courted. Sebastian had saved her, and for that he did deserve the thanks that stuck thick like molasses in her foolish throat. Worse was realizing how close she'd come to having Nova come home. With frightening ease Marian could imagine what those soldiers might have done to her beautiful, innocent daughter. Unless Sebastian had come to Nova's rescue, as well. No, not Sebastian, but Nova's father. Uncertain what to feel, what to think, she bowed her head, her chin touching the cold clasp of her cloak, her mind swirling deep in turmoil.

"Does your chest hurt you much serha?" She questioned, softly. When he didn't respond, instead tensing against her, she turned her face toward him. "I thought you'd stay in bed for at least a week." _Thank the Gods you hadn't! _She frowned at his chest, wishing she could see the bandage underneath his heavy armor. "I certainly wouldn't have believed you'd go bounding about on horseback, or nearly starting a bar brawl for that matter."

While she spoke, his expression remained guarded, impassive. _Unsettling_. Turning away, she sighed disappointed that this would forever be how they were to each other. Mage verse Templar, Woman verse Man. Always enemies because fate dictated it. What worried her though, was why that suddenly mattered?

"To be perfectly honest Lady Hawke," his voice licked into her thoughts, "my chest feels like Adonis here, sat on top of it. Only a flask filled by Keran with black coffee and a strong health potion has kept me from disgracing myself on a number of occasions. For example, when your brother decided he'd like me better if I didn't breath." Inclining her head to Sebastian once more, she squinted at his neck trying to see the bruises she knew Carver would have left; worrying her brother had hurt him.

"Carver is a good man Knight-Commander," Marian explained, unsure why she felt the need too divulge anything to him, "but no one came out of the blight unscathed, especially not Ferelden refugees like us, we're all each other has. Surely you can understand why a Templar Commander, asking after his mage sister, might rattle my dear brother's cage." Sebastian nodded without saying anything. His body relaxed beneath her though, his face softening back to its heart stopping allure. Gods the man was almost too beautiful.

Tapping her cheek she scrutinized his plated chest once more, trying to escape the enchanting hold he held over her. "I warned you of fever and infection from such a wound. If that happens, your Keran's coffee concoction won't be worth a damn serha. Instead of tromping around the Hanged man, asking fool questions, you should be resting. Healing potions are great, but they're not a complete solution."

"The pain is my penance, Lady Hawke," he replied, his face deadly serious, "To remind me not to ride out at night alone again, in a country where I make such a fine target." Cocking her head to the right, Marian measured him skeptically.

"Your penance is obviously serving you well, Knight-Commander. Or doesn't this darkness qualify as night?"

"Of course it does," he agreed. "But with you as my bodyguard, I feel thoroughly safe." This time she didn't smile. He meant to tease her, nothing more, but by doing so he'd unknowingly told the truth as well. The bow that had fired on him would remain silent as long as they were on the same horse. Gabriel Vael would have seen to that. She searched Sebastian's face willing him to understand all she couldn't say. Uncomfortably she shifted her weight across his thighs, freezing in place when a muffled groan escaped his lips. "You… you umm-" Sebastian rasped, the husky hitch of his voice, had her grinding her bottom into him hard with uncontrolled heat, until he gripped her hips firmly forcing her to still. "You-" he tried again clearing his throat. "What happened to you and your brother during the blight?"

"Hmm?" Marian asked mystified by the heat of his body.

"You said no one came out of the blight unscathed. Lady Hawke the blight was nearly twelve years ago. What did a Templar do to you guys, that you both wear such deep lasting scars?"

As if someone dumped iced water over her, Marian's heated flame died with his inquiry, red, hot pain lancing through her, in its place. _Dear Bethie. _She could feel his eyes watching her, waiting for her to answer. How should she answer? She certainly couldn't tell him such personal pain, could she? Marian hadn't told anyone about Bethany, at least not about how she, Marian Hawke, had failed her baby sister. No, only Carver shared in that deep-set laceration, and both he and Marian dealt with it in their own way. Where Marian took it as another lash of the Gods viper wrath, Carver had become hard, and a wee bit of a tit, his temper legend in some circles.

"I had a younger sister." She blurted. So she was going to tell him then, _awkward._

"You did?" Sebastian goaded.

"Aye." She whispered committing fully to her decision to tell him, because well why the hell not? "Bethany was her name. She and Carver were twins. We used to joke that Carver got all the brawn and Bethie all the brain." Marian laughed fondly, recalling the memories of Carver kicking both her and Beth in the shins, every time they jested him. "My parents died when I was fifteen. The Chantry had wanted to take us in, but Bethany and I would have been dragged off to separate circles and Carver would have been left. I couldn't break our family up. So we packed everything we could carry and left for Lothering, _Redcliffe you liar!_ Well she wasn't going to help him unravel all her secrets!

"A lot of responsibility for a girl so young. Was the circle and Chantry really so bad of an idea?"

"Of course it was! By staying away from the Chantry we stayed free and together. Which was exactly, how my parents would have wanted it." Marian sighed, his absurd question reminding her who she was riding with. What excuse would he make for his Templar brother; perhaps this hadn't been the best idea.

"Lady Hawke," he murmured, "I'm sorry for the foot in mouth syndrome I seem to suffer from. I of all people know how important family is, though it took mine being taken abruptly from me, to understand what you seemed to know from birth. Please tell me!" The sincere, heart wrenching look he gave her, had Marian's mouth moving seemingly of it's own accord.

"When the blight hit I was eighteen, the twins fifteen and my husband perished in the chaos, leaving us to fend for ourselves. I had remembered my mother talking about her noble family; that they resided in Kirkwall and decided that anywhere outside of Ferelden would be better. On our way out of Lothering, we stumbled upon a Templar surrounded on all sides by darkspawn, twenty of em at least." _Harrith you bloody bastard! _The hurt she'd kept under lock, key and strong-armed guard, was rushing to the forefront whacking her in the face like a ton of bricks. "Carver and Bethany both wanted to leave him to the darkspawn, and that scared me. They were both so young, but they spat venom, hatred that I never wanted them to feel. So I chastised them for their hate. Said if we couldn't show mercy how could we expect him to, or anyone for that matter."

"Very wise words Lady Hawke. What we give-"

"Is what we get?" She growled. "It's a lie serha." Marian snapped pulling at the braid she'd been twisting in his handsome studs mane. "We launched everything we had on the darkspawn in defense of the trapped man. When the smoke cleared and dust settled all four of us rose like phoenix, from the ash." She paused choking on the nightmare that came next. An incurable wound that seeped poison into her soul. "The Templar thanked us. Told us we had to be blessed by Andraste herself, and when we turned from him, he embedded his long sword through Bethany's pure heart."

**7-7-7**

Coming to a halt in the Rose's stable yard, Sebastian couldn't help the gasp that left his lips. Her tragic tail tearing through him, as surely as, the arrow of nights past had. It made him uneasy that he'd do anything, to take the pain he felt thrum through her small frame. To Sebastian's horror he had nothing to say. What did one say to such tragedy? Nothing would ever be sufficient.

"No one knows of your wound, Knight-Commander. At least not from, my lips." She hummed quietly, changing the subject, saving him from himself. Before he could answer, she slid from Adonis with dignified grace, to the cobblestone path. Her robe and cloak, flowing behind her with the same graceful ease, her heeled boots clicking as she hurried across the stable yard, toward the Rose's back door.

"Lady Hawke!" He called after her, swinging himself from the saddle. He intended nothing but to say good evening, there was no sin in that. "Lady Hawke, ma'am."

He watched her back stiffen, her steps slowly hesitating. She paused then to his surprise she darted back to him. How many times tonight had he watched her turn from him only to come back each time?

"You were right to expect my thanks."

"No ma'am it was wrong of me-" She raised her index finger to her lips puckering the soft, pink pillows to shush him.

"Let me finish Knight-Commander. I am strong willed, as hard headed as the Qunari and most of the time overly prideful. These assets have served me well in life and in business, but sometimes they cloud my judgment." She paused licking her lips, cheeks a deep cherry red. "I am, without doubt serha, that you saved me from a world of misfortune tonight. So, though it's belated I give you my thanks now and beg your pardon for knocking you from your horse."

"I'd forgive any woman who elbowed me in the nose, if she could control Adonis half as well as you did Lady Hawke." said Sebastian with a smile.

"My given name serha; is Marian." She rasped breathlessly, her returned smile sudden, and fleeting nervously. "But my friends call me Mari." As she slipped away from him again, he realized two things, the first, that he had forgotten to wish her a good evening, the second, that he, Knight-Commander Sebastian Vael, of the Divine's Royal Elite Army, was standing with his helm in his hands, grinning like a fool boy who'd been kissed for the first time.

…**.**

When the stable hand didn't come to greet him Sebastian set to work untacking Adonis, brushing the stud down, before leading him into his stall and latching the heavy oak door behind him. Sebastian settled himself on top of a bale of straw left across from his studs stall.

The sounds of the horses always calmed him, cleared his head and helped him think. He should have questioned Marian about what she was actually doing running around outside the city, duty had demanded it, but he couldn't bring himself too. He'd liked how open she was with him, how right they seemed on top of Adonis together and he hadn't wanted to ruin it by barking demands.

Glimpsing over toward Adonis once more, he was intrigued when the usually greedy brute dropped bites of his hay over the stall of the auburn mare's that resided next door. "So a red-headed temptress has you all twisted up too, eh old boy?" Sebastian questioned, Adonis ignoring him in return. " Don't be rude, at least tell me her name fella."

"Casey." The stable hand's voice cracked from behind him, startling Sebastian, nearly knocking him from the straw bale.

"What's her name?" Sebastian asked, eyeing the stable hand that was sleepily tucking his shirttails, into his breeches and pulling lengths of hay from his tussled choppy brown locks.

"Casey, serha. Your stud picks well too, she's the best bred mare I've ever seen."

"Lady Hawke's mare?" Sebastian breathed, more to himself than the younger man, his eyebrows arched towards the sky in surprise.

"Aye." The boy confirmed suspiciously. "How'd you know that, Templar?"

"It's simple, lad. Best bred mare, for Kirkwall's best bred Lady." Sebastian grumbled noting how the boy's cheeks turned a deep rose. _Poor lad's just as enraptured as I am._

"D. D… Did you need something serha?" The boy stumbled nervously twisting his hands in his dirty shirt.

"Nay. If you don't mind, I'd just like to watch Adonis for awhile longer." With what sounded like a relieved sigh, the stable hand bowed his head, turning on his heel, quietly disappearing into the darkness of the barn.

Moving to Adonis Sebastian scrubbed his hand gently over the studs nose, moving down to the sleek, muscled expanse of the big stallions neck. "I fear we're both in for serious trouble old boy. These Hawke ladies seem to scorn us Vael men." As though to prove Sebastian wrong, the pretty mare raised her head to Adonis, grooming the stallions cheek, lulling the big beast to sleep with her tender ministrations. "Or… perhaps I should be taking instructions in charm from you old friend." Sebastian laughed, jovially at first, but quickly it turned to bitterness, as a tantalizing voice inside of him, rooted unsettling truths, deep into his psyche.

"_War is dangerous Sebastian, but the greatest threat to you, here in Kirkwall, is the lithe, rebel mage with the supernatural eyes"!_


	11. Chapter 11

_The Rogue's Conquest_

Chapter 11

"After you've finished fixing the wardrobe Mistress Hawke, these plates need tending. Unless it's a custom of yours to leave filthy china lying about?" Marian grumbled, mimicking the uppity Lady de Launcet's nasally, high-pitched voice with disgust.

Stopping at the top of the back stairs, she set the heavy steel tray, full of dirty dishes and half-eaten breakfast on the floor. Being a personal maid and handyman, all rolled into one weren't tasks she particularly relished, but the de Launcets were two of her last paying guests. If they preferred to dine in their room because of Dulci's fragile disposition regarding soldiers, then Marian had to be more than willing to accommodate. Still she wouldn't be sad to see them go.

Quickly she looped the hem of her robe through the ties of her apron, until the long skirt was raised well past her knees, placing the hammer she'd used on the wardrobe through the ties as well. When she was satisfied she wouldn't be tripping over her skirt, Marian grabbed the steel tray once more, hoisting it back onto her shoulder to head down the narrow, winding stairs to the kitchen. Though it had been awhile since she regularly carried trays herself, she hadn't forgotten the tricks of parlor maids and serving girls. A good thing, too, since a good chunk of the tavern's staff fled when the Templar ships came into view of the Wounded Coast. And the few who'd been brave enough to stay? They disappeared into the night, when the vast amounts of Templar soldiers had begun filling the Rose's rooms. Leaving Orana, Jethann, Serendipity and herself, too, tend the tavern.

"There you are at last," barked Aveline, as Marian came into the kitchen. To her right Orana sat perched on the oak counter top, likely in an attempt to stay out from underfoot of the burly Guard-Captain's relentless pacing.

Halfway to noon! And some folk are still in bed with bacon and cocoa," Aveline groused. "Bloody Orleasians!"

"Well, Avie, the Rose doesn't have enough paying guests to turn people away because their habits don't suit you." Marian scolded irritably, setting the tray down to the left of Orana. Harder than she'd intended, if the great symphony of clattering china was any hint. Marian suspected her bad mood, was a side effect of the sleepless night she'd spent tossing and turning. Groaning into her plush, pillow at how freely she'd acted with Sebastian Vael. "Besides Guillaume de Launcet always settles his bill without grief, and pays cold, hard sovereign."

"Aye, but look at this Mari!" Orana cried with a wounded air, poking her wooden spoon through the dirty china beside her. "Just look, I beg you. I crisped the bacon perfectly, just as Dulci ordered and back it comes, as if I hadn't heeded her wishes at all!"

"They leave tomorrow, for Orlais Orana," said Marian, snatching the strip of bacon the elf waved around, and popping it into her mouth. "Mmmm delicious," She worshipped, around a mouthful of the salty, sweet meat. "I trust you can bear with them until then, dear friend and I will eat your perfectly cooked bacon myself."

"Hawke," Aveline interrupted sharply, catching both Marian's and Orana's attention. "You blanetly under minded my authority!"

"Well look at the time!" Orana chirped, popping off the counter like a shot. "I'm going to… Go away… Far… Far away." The little elf finished, fleeing past Marian, not meeting her eyes. _Bloody turncoat!_ Marian thought, never taking her own eyes off of Kirkwall's livid Guard-Captain.

"I don't know what your talking about Ave-"

"Bullshit Hawke! You know exactly what I'm talking about. Those Templars deserve to be charged under our authority. Last I checked; this was still our goddamn city!" Aveline's voice boomed through the small kitchen. Her gauntleted fists crashed down hard where Orana had been, the force breaking some of the dirty china on impact. "And then you don't even have the BALLS," She bellowed rocking the rafters, a hand clenched as if she were trying to grasp at the balls she spoke of. "To tell me yourself. I had to learn your stupid, naïve decision from the Knight-Vigilant when I showed up to take his men into custody. Maker Mari! I had to watch the Ward sister's rapist, while they smiled and sneered at me and couldn't do a damn thing about it. That's the Divine's justice; you've decided to trust so wholly in? Who are you? Because you're certainly not the same woman who saved this city from Qunari indoctrination and Knight-Commander Meredith."

"Who am I?" Marian snapped, turning away from the shattered pieces of china she'd been cleaning, to face Aveline's blazing, emerald eyes. "I'm the woman who gets to make all the decisions. I also happen to be the one people either love, or hate because of those decisions and most importantly, Guard-Captain! I'm the only thing standing between this Gods forsaken city and a bloody massacre."

"Marian." She heard Orana beckon, from the kitchen door behind her, but didn't turn from Aveline, not quite finished with her tirade.

"If you want to extract, your coveted pound of flesh so badly, Aveline, then so be it. You have my leave to collect the pelts of those soulless bastards. Know this though-"

"Mari!" Orana tried again, a little more urgently. The desperation in the elf's voice catching the Guard-Captain's interest, her green, eyes widening at whatever she saw. But still Marian wasn't finished. She'd kept her temper too tightly locked, for too long to stop now.

"One moment Orana." She growled brokenly, never taking her eyes from Aveline.

"The war that the Knight-Vigilant, will undoubtedly unleash upon this city will be on your head Aveline. I'd get well prepared for the shit storm you'll be under once all is said and done."

"Marian, please!" Orana pleaded.

"What is it?!" Marian roared, pivoting on her heel to face her friend, fury threatening her twitchy, mental trigger. But instantly her anger was replaced with a chilled fear. Her own eyes widening into large saucers, like Aveline's had. Understanding now, Orana's desperation.

"Knight-Commander Vael!" Marian croaked, her fingers flying to her unruly curls, in attempt to smooth the static flyways.

"Aye, Mari, Knight-Commander Vael in the flesh," Orana mocked. A look of suspicion crossing her pretty, elven face, as she eyed Marian's freshly primped mane. "The TEMPLAR Vael! You know, the one staying in our finest suite, as fine as a lord. He's the kind that should be paying his way if you ask my thoughts on the matter." Orana continued, ignoring the fact that the man she spoke of stood only an arms length from her.

"Which I am not Orana," Marian retorted sharply, quieting the elf. Though she felt her face burn a guilty shade of red. Gods only knew, who had seen her return on Sebastian's horse last night. Or what Orana and Aveline had both already heard. _Foolish!_ She thought dismally_, foolish, foolish_ to have behaved like some doe eyed girl for all of Kirkwall to witness!

It hit Marian then, that she should be far more worried about what Sebastian had heard of her and Aveline's "talk". How long had he stood in the doorway for? - _BALLS! _This man, in all his perfection, would be the death of her. And though she'd spent a sleepless night because of him, he on the other hand, held no shadows beneath his glorious eyes, or ill humor in his expression, as he smiled at her now… _Bastard._

With her cheeks firing hotter, Marian tore her gaze from his lush mouth, back to Orana. "All that you and I have to discuss, is what will be offered at the table for dinner tonight. Which we'll go over once I've seen to serha Vael."

"Actually Mistress Hawke," Sebastian cut in with an easy charm. "I believe both can be satisfied right now. I've come with welcome news, M'lady. The market square has once again been opened for business, the trading ships were allowed to dock early this morning."

"They never would have been stopped from docking in the first place, if your Knight-Vigilant hadn't ordered it," Marian scoffed, rebelliously tossing her chin high. At least he'd the sense not to call her by her given name, the way she'd practically begged him, too do last night. Gods, what had possessed her? "I still fail to see what danger he could possibly see in ships carrying turnips, eggs and silks. Or for that matter what danger the market itself could pose. What devious trickery, do you suppose housewives and farmers are getting up to these days Knight-Commander?"

**7-7-7**

"It was for the protection of those same housewives and farmers, that the Knight-Vigilant made his decision," he said. "Rebels have a way of turning even the most harmless gatherings into a dangerous place, for innocent people." Sebastian toyed with the helm in his hand, tracing a finger over its smooth surface. As he wondered how Marian managed to look so sinfully pretty in the harsh afternoon's light, when few women seldom did.

He hadn't meant to take her unaware, as he evidently had. Not that he regretted it. With an apron around her slim waist, a hammer in it's, white ties, along with the hem of her skirt tucked into the ties around her waist, she looked much more like a cheeky maidservant, than the stern landlady she was trying to be. Like this she looked like a Mari. Last night she'd told him to call her that, not Marian, nor Lady Hawke. Just Mari. Like this, the name suited her. Though Sebastian had decided never to use it. As tempting as it was, such familiarity was only certain to bring great sorrow with it.

Nay, he hadn't meant to sneak up on her, as he'd seemed to. In fact Sebastian had only followed the little elf that had greeted him in the foyer, when the sounds of angry yelling floated to his ears. He'd be lying, if he said that finding the Rose's scarlet mistress, standing toe to toe with Kirkwall's firm Guard-Captain, hadn't shocked him.

Now with her back ramrod straight, and her mouth gaped in a giant O, Sebastian got the distinct impression; their conversation had been filled with information, which would have answered a lot of his blasted questions.

**7-7-7**

Under Sebastian's scrutiny Marian raised her chin higher. How could the man stand there, smiling so beautifully, and spew such nonsense as if it were handed down from the Maker himself? "Oh Knight-Commander, such protection." Marian mused, "Was it protection, your men offered me last night, I wonder?" His dashing, lopsided smile, spurred her heart into another barge against her ribcage. She'd hoped her words would shake his calm demeanor. Instead she'd only seemed to amuse him and nearly give herself a heart attack for good measure.

"Perhaps my men were less than polite, Lady Hawke, but I had hoped I'd made up for their indiscretions, myself last night."

Marian stumbled back, sucking in a shocked breath. The implication they'd spent the night together horrified her. She knew he hadn't meant it as anything more sinister than him protecting her, the night prior. But both Aveline and Orana hadn't been there last night, and with her deviant history, they were sure to take his words at face value.

"We did not…" Marian bumbled, scanning her friend's faces. "I did not… With him." She tried, hiking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Sebastian, while shaking her head NO, vigorously.

"Excuse me Hawke," said Orana, rolling her eyes, not bothering to hide her impatience with the scene unfolding. "But if the markets open as he said, than there's plenty we need. I can't be expected to produce gourmet dishes, with only peanut butter and a pound of bacon you know."

Marian sighed, partly because she was glad Orana had stopped her from her frantic rambling, but also because she knew the chef was right. Though the Rose's guest list was dwindling, there were still things Orana couldn't be expected to do without.

"Aye, your right Oreo, I'll go right now," Marian agreed, realizing as she untied her apron, that she'd left both the hammer, and the hem of her skirt in its ties. Hastily she tossed the hammer down, than tugged her skirt well past her ankles, her cheeks flaring hot once more. How common she must of appeared to the Prince of Starkhaven. _La sigh!_

"I'll go fetch my cloak, then be off right away."

"Excellent, Lady Hawke," said Sebastian entusastically. "Then I'll have the joy of your company as we walk."

She froze mid-step, her spine snapping into harsh alignment. "That's certainly not necessary, Knight-Commander!" She bit out quickly. "I'm sure you've other duties that need your attention." Unless she'd become part of his duties? After all, she still wasn't sure how much of her and Aveline's conversation he'd heard.

"First is to see that all is proceeding peacefully with the reopening of the market, and that I can do as well with you, as alone." Sebastian said. He also should have added, that for him to be seen with her, one of the most respected women in the city. At the reopened market, could only help in convincing the rest of Kirkwall, that the Divine did wish them well. It would have at least been more honest of him.

Without waiting for a response, he took her emerald cloak, the one she had worn the previous night, from the peg near the doorway he stood in, holding it open for her. "Come Lady Hawke. If you wish, I'll even bring Corporal Keran to carry your purchases home for you."

"That," she murmured quickly "won't be necessary." Feeling thoroughly trapped, she let him settle the cloak over her shoulders. Better to take no greater notice of his attentions, and give both Orana and Aveline yet another thing to squint and scowl over. She'd walk the short distance at his side if she must, but once at the market, she had every intention of freeing herself from him, as soon as she could. The last thing she needed, or wanted was for people to begin linking them together, the next leap, connecting Nova as well, would then be all too easy, to make.

She purposefully ignored his offered arm as they stepped into the street, drawing her hood up instead; glad he let the slight pass without argument. "Snow again," Marian whined, wrinkling her nose as she peered up into the vast, blue-grey sky. Fat white flakes caressed her cheeks, landing lightly on her thick lashes, like glittering diamonds. Already enough lay on the ground, blanketing the cobblestone streets and grass patches, in shimmering white. Making Kirkwall, look more like a Solstice snow globe, as opposed to the frightened city that she was. "Pray it doesn't amount to much." Marian said, thinking out loud.

"Amen to that," Sebastian agreed. "At least now we've managed to find decent quarters for the men, and no one's left to sleep in tents. Those first two nights on the Coast, were enough for me. I can assure you Lady Hawke, that your hospitality and your bed are a good deal more comfortable than an open hillside in a Kirkwall winter.

Again she knew he meant, "bed" as in one belonging to her tavern, and not specifically her own bed. Yet still she stiffened defensively. The bed with the pristine white sheets and golden lace curtains; was her sanctuary, her private place to be shared with no one! For the second time today, his innocent, but careless words, had her banished to a provocative place, where sinful possibilities awakened shockingly vivid images, dancing them about her eyes. It rocked her core with electric bolts of longing and need, she'd thought long dead, and that infuriated her!

"Hospitality implies an invitation, that was willingly extended, Knight-Commander," she whispered, voice brittle. "I wouldn't consider being forced to shelter, intrusive Templar soldiers in my home, that way." Sebastian glanced at her; surprise laced in his poisonous eyes and seeped into his beautiful face.

"I meant no offence Marian," he said seriously. "I intended it as praise, nothing else and if I've made a mistake, please forgive me, I'm but a man."

Marian stopped abruptly, brought to a halt by the sound of her name from his lips. She'd berated herself all night long for being so foolish in giving him leave to use her given name. But now that she'd heard him use it, she began to think foolishness had nothing to do with it. Long ago, he'd never called her anything, but empty endearments. Hearing it now, she wondered if part of her had hoped to redeem that lost past, with something as simple and as complicated as this.

"Forgive me Mari," he said, more softly this time. His words coming out as little puffs of icy smoke, in the afternoon chill. "Please, I didn't mean to slight the good name of either you, or your tavern."

Overwhelmed by his kindness and her turmoil, Marian pressed a gloved hand to her mouth. She didn't want his concern, nor did she relish in his apologies. There wasn't nearly enough room for either in her life at the moment. But OH, how turquoise his eyes seemed, with snowflakes fluttering around his face. The turquoise she'd never forgotten... The turquoise she was always forced to remember, when she glimpsed upon their daughter's smiling face.

Marian lowered her head and turned away, securing her cloak more firmly around her body, as she hurried down the street and toward the market. Though she could hear his footsteps quicken to follow, she didn't look back.

"By the Gods NO!" she cried, shaking her head in denial and disbelief. "Oh what have they done? What have they done?!" On the corner she stood upon, there sat a mansion, so old that it had been through the first Qunari invasion in 7:56 Storm, than housed Sir Lumile de Marais. The Orleasian chevalier, that had liberated the city from the horned ox men in 7:60 Storm, to become Viscount of Kirkwall, and in the lot next to the aged mansion, was an orchard of gnarled fruit trees, cherry – apple – pear, that had all borne fruit nearly as long… But no longer, for every one of the trees had been cut to the ground, their twisted, old limbs butchered crudely, into rough chunks and stacked along the trampled snow. Gone too, was the neat white washed fence, which once surrounded the fruitful trees. It as well had been torn down, and stacked into a tremendous pile. And as she looked on in horror, two Templar soldiers, in leather aprons, began to chop into the first of the great pine trees that lined the scenic Hightown streets.

**7-7-7**

"It's a shame to lose the trees, I know," said Sebastian at her shoulder, returning the salute of each of his men, "but it's worse still, to have a solider freeze to death, for want of a decent fire. You said yourself, one cord of wood a week wouldn't be enough for me, and most of my men will be fortunate to have a quarter of that for comfort."

"But those fruit trees, had been there since before we were born - before our parents were born!" She cried. "How in the Gods name, can you destroy them with so little thought?"

"There's much thought behind it ma'am and as much grieving and sorrow." The harsh edge to his voice was unintentional, as he spoke to her, but was there just the same. "If the mages of this city had given equal thought to their actions, before they rebelled against their Chantry, then these trees – and many a life – would have been spared from destruction."

"You are wrong serha," said the little mage furiously, her right hand held over her seemingly broken heart. "Most appallingly, most diabolically wrong! To say that my people would wantonly choose destruction and death on a whim, on an impulse, proves just how little you know of our reasons for this rebellion. And even more, how little you understand, of the abuses we were subjected to at the hands of your Templar brethren."

"Everyone of us have our own reasons ma'am, for whatever choices we make in our lives," sighed Sebastian grimly. Mage deceit was always the same, even when it came from the tempting mouth of Marian Hawke. "But now my choice is to see you safely to the market, and do that I shall." He said

She looked at him impassively, a look that unsettled Sebastian. For it held none of the fire he was so accustom to seeing, instead it was completely blank. Her eyes were so cold he wanted to shake her in the hopes, the blue bulbs behind her dull grey orbs would flicker their supernatural glow.

"Your choice, Knight-Commander, and the Divine take mine," she said, words as icy as the mask she donned. "Is that how it shall be? For a few moments you will have your way – your 'choice', as you call it and then when you are done, satisfied, will I be left with the consequences?"

"Consequences?" Sebastian asked, feeling like he'd walked into a conversation, he hadn't realized they'd been in the process of having. "You speak in riddles, Mari. What kind of consequence would come of you and I walking to the market together?"

"None in the least." She said wistfully, moving from his side. "You've no fear of that… At least not this day Knight-Commander." She paused at one of the doomed pine trees, removing a glove to lightly trace her small fingers over the whorls in the bark, as a silent farewell. She looked to him once more, letting the hood of her cloak slip back from her hair, while she kept her hand on the tree. Her expression struck him as a curious mixture of sadness and defiance, and her eyes ignited a brilliant burnt-orange he'd never witnessed before, unshed tears illuminating them, like a clear blue sky, would the sun.

She must have a lover serving with the rebels, decided Sebastian with a sudden pang of certainty. Perhaps that's who she'd been in the barn with, the night he'd been impaled by the rebel arrow. Some man fortunate enough to inspire both her tears and her anger. An absent lover would explain so much. _But damnation! Why were her lips, her tears and even the eerie, burnt-orange glow of her eyes, so maddeningly familiar? _

With obvious effort, she twisted her mouth into something close to a smile, stuffing her hand back into her glove. "We mustn't waste any more time Knight-Commander." With a swift blink, her eyes went back to dull grey. The tears that had nearly fallen moments ago, vanished willed away with sheer force. "Unless you want to be the one who answers to Orana, when I don't return with a turkey and a ham hock at the very least."

Oddly enough, Sebastian felt as if he should apologize once more, though he hadn't the slightest notion why. Instead he offered his arm to her again, and this time she took it. Her gloved hand upon his sleeve wasn't warm as he suspected it might be, but was as light and insubstantial as the snowflakes that gathered there, too.

They walked in uneasy silence for what seemed a lifetime, neither sure what to say. "In Venus there's truth?" Sebastian finally found the courage to ask, certain he couldn't possibly anger her more than he already had. She looked up into his face through her thick lashes, her eyes softening, and a sigh lightly escaping her plump, pink lips.

"I see serha, you've been talking to Isabela." She sighed sheepishly, leading him by his arm toward a stone bench just outside of the markets square, pulling him down to sit next to her. "Did she tell you about Venus?"

"Aye, though I fear she wasn't telling me the truth. So if it's all the same, I'd like to hear about the goddess from you, and what you meant. Maker, knows it's a riddle I've been madly trying to decode… It's not working out so well however." Sebastian sighed, pulling his helm from his head, letting his brown hair wave in the chilly breeze.

"Venus was… is depending on who you talk to, the goddess of love, beauty and sex." Marian whispered barely loud enough for him to hear. Her gloved fingers twisting and untwisting her crimson curls nervously. "Being's, she's the goddess of sex, the saying actually translates to in sex there's truth."

"And you said that's what you believe?" Sebastian asked shocked at her interpretation. Though it was logical, he never expected it to come from the stern Lady Hawke.

"I do. Perhaps it's different for men, and you probably won't agree. But in all my years I've learnt more about a person once I've bedded them, than I ever would have keeping my clothes on." He pinned her with a skeptical look, not sure what to say next. What did one ask that wouldn't offend her? Before he could say anything, she grabbed one of his hands with both of hers, willing him to understand.

"I'm going to give you an example serha, and then we'll never speak of this again." She said simply and he nodded in agreement. "When I was a girl… Seventeen actually, I met a man in a dingy tavern. One so handsome, so sweet, with a smile that could melt ice, or intoxicate a naïve girl, who'd never met such a man in her life… Namely myself." She giggled nervously, licking her lips. "This man spoke such pretty words to me about how beautiful I was, that I was like an un-bloomed flower. And though I know how foolish it is now, I thought him a gentleman, one who I trusted immediately." She paused squeezing his hand tightly; her little gloved nails dug hard into his palm, though Sebastian doubted she noticed and the chink in her normally cool confidence humbled him. Even though she called him 'enemy' she was still willing to confide in him, something that clearly pained her.

"Please," Sebastian reassured, gently placing his free hand over hers. "Don't stop." With a slight bob of her head and a fleeting smile, she met his gaze and obliged him.

"When he got into some trouble that night, I snuck him into a barn to protect him from the guards, and up in the musty loft, he proved to be quite the opposite of what I believed him. He was nothing more than a snake in the grass, and once he'd taken his pleasure he left. But, not before he offered me coins."

"Dressed as one, the wolf will betray the lamb." Sebastian whispered bitterly. "That man, Mari, is not a man, Maker, a rabid dog sounds like better company." Sebastian raged, angry for the young woman she'd been, wanting to kill the man she spoke of.

"Aye, he was a wolf indeed." She responded wisely. "But the point to the story is, that I learnt who he was by the way he treated me." Pulling her hands from his, she leaned close to him. "And if that's not enough to make u a believer of In Venere Veritas, then here's another small example. You've met Isabela. And you likely believe her to be thoroughly selfish and overly confident, with an iced heart, but serha, I can tell you from experience, she's actually very self-conscious, uncertain, and she'd give you her heart, if it weren't for her fear of it being crushed."

"And you learnt this-"

**7-7-7**

"By making love to her of course, discovering the woman under all that gold, and paint she covers herself with. Aye." Marian nodded, forcing a smile. She should be happy he hadn't connected the dots and figured out he was the wolf. But it burned her to know she'd truly been so insignificant to him. By the Gods! She'd given him a cart full of breadcrumbs, and he still wasn't able to follow the path they lead down. Standing abruptly, she brushed her hands over the skirt of her robe fearing if she didn't keep them busy she'd punch him square in the nose.

Coming to stand next to her, Sebastian offered her his arm once more, and still without thought she took it, allowing him to lead her through the arches that marked the start of the Hightown market. One of Kirkwall's most elegant landmarks, the newly built market house was a three-story building, with open arches on the ground level for the stalls.

Though farmers, fishermen and other merchants had returned at Marian's orders, to sell their wares, their numbers on this grey, snowy morning were far fewer than she was use to. There was none of the usual laughter and good-natured bantering, no loitering to gossip or exchange news. The citizens who came to the stalls and carts today, all finished their business as quickly as possible before they scurried back to their homes.

Knight-Vigilant Cullen; could make all the pronouncements he wished, about life in the city returning to normal; but the Templar soldiers who stood guarding the market place against any sign of rebellious behavior, made normal life as Kirkwall's people knew it impossible.

Self-consciously Marian let her gloved hand slip from Sebastian's arm, aware of the curious looks the simple gesture was drawing from her people. For a few brief moments, she had allowed herself the comfort that little touch had brought. It was dangerous though, that little touch, that public display of intimacy. She let herself believe, that even in his silence he somehow understood her reasoning. Be it imagined or real, she sensed a bond to him and she thought wistfully of all that could never be, could never even begin, between them.

Deliberately, Marian bent to study a beautiful, deep sapphire dress Jean-Luc had on display, in an attempt to forget Sebastian entirely. "By the Gods Jean, you've out done yourself with this stunning gown," she admired the tailor's finely crafted piece, his thin face shading red, with her compliment.

"Oui, mum. I made it with you in mind. Are you interested in buying?" He asked, with a hopeful air. It would be good business for him if the cities Viscountess, were to be seen in one of his custom pieces. And Marian had to admit; the dress was exquisite. Made of a pure, sapphire jacquard silk. The skirt was ruched up in beautiful waves, to reveal a layered black tulle underskirt, the ruched points trimmed with tiny black bows. The bodice was a tight fitted corset, accented on the top with black lacey trim. A row of tiny, vertical golden pearls, rested down the front. The entire ensemble laced up in the back, with a thick, black silk ribbon. Was she interested? The answer to that question was as certain as both death and taxes. The dress held her as it's captive and she hadn't even tried it on yet!

"How much?" She asked, knowing full well the answer didn't much matter. Jean-Luc already, had her sold on her need for the sapphire gown in her life.

"Fifty sovereign, mum."

"Fifty?" Marian groaned knowing the dress was well worth its price tag, but it was still a steep price. "Why Jean-Luc that's highway robbery!"

"Ten sovereign less for you Madame." The tailor said, rubbing a hand across his chin. "And I'll throw in these black, lace gauntlets and a pair of golden stilettos for free. But I won't be going a penny less than that, I don't need to tell you how hard times are these days."

"You will excuse me Lady Hawke," Sebastian intervened, his silken voice raising just enough to draw her attention, and that of every other woman in the marketplace. "But I must speak with the Knight-Vigilant at once."

"Very well, Knight-Commander Vael, and a good day to you." Marian scarcely bothered to look toward him as she waved her hand in an airy dismissal, focusing all her attentions back on Jean-Luc and his elegant creation. "You have yourself a deal, serha," Marian chirped extending a hand to the tailor. "Now it must be wrapped and taken to the Rose directly. And mind you be sure to ask for Orana.

As Marian counted out the coins in her palm, her thoughts uneasily returned to Sebastian. She'd been on the fence whether she wanted him to leave, or stay. But she certainly hadn't wanted him to leave like this. What "words" was he having with the Knight-Vigilant? Had she inadvertently done, or said something he needed to report immediately? Better yet had he heard all of her and Aveline's conversation in the kitchen? Was he about to out her well thought through façade while she fawned over ball gowns? _By the Gods I hope not!_

Making her way around the market square, Marian tried hard to remember everything Orana needed. Eggs of course, a turkey, or two if they were to be had. And sticky, molasses sweets that were Nova's favorite. Even though Marian had no idea when she'd be able to see her precious girl again. And rice, and-

"Nah' greeting fer' me lass?" Asked Gabriel Vael. "Or do they all belong tae' mah' dear, beloved little brother these days? O' hush now, keep yer' wits about ye' woman!"

"Gabriel," Marian breathed trying to calm her racing heart. "You startled me that's all." She hadn't meant to jump, but she also hadn't expected to find the wanted Vael _HERE!_ Standing near the back of one of the merchants stalls, covered in the shadows, his usual simple, but costly clothes replaced by raggedy farmers garb and a wide brimmed hat, cocked forward to cover his eyes. The dark stubble she'd seen on his chin only days ago, was now well on it's way to being a full-blown, bushy, brown beard. But the greatest change in his face came from within, a dark bitterness etched into every perfectly chiseled feature.

"Well Ah' cannae' come around the Rose any longer Mari. Ye' know that." He sighed, his gaze restlessly sweeping over her shoulder to the bustling market. "We'll have tae' meet however we can. Now what news do ye' have fer' me lass?"

Marian swallowed hard, wracking her brain for a memory, anything she could satisfy Gabriel with, that he may find useful. "Umm… Well." She stuttered nervously, never one for doing well when placed on the spot. "Ah yes!" She clapped happily." "There was a camp of Templars, thirty or forty at least, just on the outskirts of the Arainai's farm-"

"Common news lass." Gabriel growled cutting her off harshly. "Ah' want what ye've heard from Sebastian. Rumor says ye've been spendin' an awful lot O' time with him you must know something useful."

"He's hardly about to confide the Divine's darkest secrets in me Gabe." She scoffed, a tad miffed at the silent accusations, he was throwing at her. "Especially not with less than a weeks acquaintance!" Gabriel's expression darkened his eyes seeming to fire red.

"Tae' mah' eye mistress, yer' acquaintance with mah' brother seems quite cozy actually. At least it did last night, when the pair O' ye' rode into town on his dark stallion."

Marian flushed, reminded again how swiftly such provocative news traveled. "It had been late Gabe, Sebastian offered me his protection back to town. That was all I swear it."

"O' aye lass, but ye' call him by his blessed name. That's good, dear, sweet Cherry, verra' good indeed." Gabriel shifted closer leaning his hands on a pillar behind Marian; boxing her in and lowering his voice to a sultry, rough whisper. "Has Sebastian mentioned anything about any o' his fellows wounded? Have any o' the men in yer' house kept tae' their beds, or summoned a surgeon? Or has any o' yer' staff talked o' bloodstains on bed sheets set aside fer' laundry?"

Her heart pounded a steady drumbeat, all the way to her ears. She had a decision to make. She'd promised Sebastian, that she'd tell no one of his wound. But, she had also promised to report, whatever she saw, or heard to help the mage cause. "No nothing of the sort." She whispered, hating herself instantly for the choice she'd made.

"By the Gods, think lass," urged Gabriel. "Ye've' heard nothing o' a Templar soldier being hit by an arrow?"

Shaking her head no, guilt worked her over for the choice she'd not only made, but in that moment had also decided to stand firm on… _Betrayer._ Gabriel swore thumping his palms against the pillar in frustration. "Ah' was sure, I'd struck him! That bloody white uniform, that beast o' a horse – there'd never be a better target, or a more deserving one Mari, Ah' swear it."

"Then it was you," she breathed, forgetting herself in the shock of what he admitted. But before Gabriel could react, a smaller figure, with a half eaten double choco chip cookie, emerged from the shadows to stand at Gabriel's side. With thick brown hair and shoulders that were already broad for a ten year old, Dallas Vael was his father's boyish doppelganger.

Plastering a genuinely warm smile on her face, Marian crouched to be at eye level with the boy. Dallas was an exact year younger than Nova. The birth date they shared, brought them close together, and made them irrevocably, inseparable. Always going on "adventures" all around Kirkwall, together.

"Nova likes those cookies, too, Dallie," she said. "I bet she's wishing to be right here, next to you eating one too!" Marian cooed, but the boy didn't grin as she'd expected. His expression remained unsure, and without answering, he slid farther back beneath his father's protective arm.

"Ye' cannae' blame the lad Mari," Gabriel whispered. "He saw ye' stroll in here pretty as a queen, with a bone armored Templar officer, an' in our house, a white armored solider is next tae' the Black Divine herself."

Slowly Marian rose, trying to temper the anger she felt roiling beneath the surface. "Even if that white armor belongs to Dallas' only living uncle?"

"That armor Mari, belongs tae' the Divine an' if Sebastian chooses tae' wear it, then he's no longer kin o' ours." Gabriel patted his son on the shoulder. "Isn't that so Dallie?"

"Yes, sir," Dallas responded obediently like a well-trained mabari pup, still avoiding Marian's eyes. "No true Vael bows to any tyrant, be it King, or Divine." The boy relayed his trained speech proudly. "Not Pa, not me. Uncle Garrus, and Grandpappy wouldn't either if they were still alive. We are free men, and we'll fight tae' the death tae' keep our freedom."

"You're very brave, Dallas," Marian spoke sadly. Despite the boy's strong declaration, his anxious fingers had ground his cookie into crumbs. And she'd wager the Rose he suffered from nightmares, too. How could he not? "Your father must be proud of you." With far less sympathy, she rose swiftly once more, leveling her dark gaze to meet that of the father she spoke of. "You've trained him well Gabe. Not many children are such vehement soldiers."

"Na' many children, Mari, have their mother killed outright, fer' honing a Maker given gift. Nor, are their father's chased from town with a price on his head," Gabriel sneered. "An' how many other children have been torn from their sleep in the middle o' the night by Templar soldiers? Tae' be pulled from their family, an' locked away from the world!"

"Would Maria have wanted her son spewing war talk?"

"Maria is – is gone Mari," he said. His hesitation betraying the sorrow that lingered beneath his rough surface that time still hadn't eased. "It's up tae' me tae' decide what's best fer' our children now. Both girls will be staying in Antiva with a friend. An' in the spring I'll take Dallas with me tae' Tevinter as a young apprentice. There he'll see men wounded an' killed fighting fer' what they believe, an' their right tae' freedom. The sooner he understands why we fight, the better."

There was nothing Marian could say to that, beyond sending a silent prayer to the sky, for both Dallas' safety and Nova's, too. Tevinter was no place for a child. She had no doubt that Gabriel loved his son as much as she loved Nova; she only needed to see the two together, to know that. But while she had done her best to spare her daughter from war, Gabriel Vael was choosing the opposite course for his son. _More foolish decisions made by men, _she thought unhappily. _More lives changed forever, by their whims._

Gabriel sighed, settling his hat further down his brow, as he took his son by the hand. "Come tae' me when ye' have something useful tae' tell, Mari." He said, as he carefully brushed the crumbed cookie from Dallas' shirt. "Ah' understand Sebastian is a clever man, but he's one that's swayed easily by a fair face, or at least he was once. Smile his way, an' Ah' guarantee ye'll have all his secrets in no time.

Reluctantly, Marian nodded, trying not to think of what would happen if Kirkwall's ragtag militia faced off against the Divine's elite. Nor did she want to think of what would happen to, the two Vael brothers in her life, who'd chosen such different sides. "How will I find you? Will you be here at the market again next week?"

"Nay lass, there's too many Templars here fer' my taste. Come next Tuesday night, tae' Rana's farmstead. Ye'll' find me, an' many o' the others who still believe in our cause."

"No, Gabriel. Please not there!" Marian gasped with dismay. Gabriel shrugged, turning to leave.

"Why nate'"? There's nae' one I'd trust more in all o' Thedas, than the Warden-Commander. Her blight ruse has made the Arainai house the safest in Kirkwall. There's nate' a Templar here that will dare tae' go near the place."

"But Nova's there!" She cried desperately, seizing his arm. "I took her to my cousin's for safekeeping when news came of the inquiry!"

"Then what better place fer' us to meet, eh lass?" Gabriel's sudden smile was unsettlingly white against his dark beard, as he gently eased her clutched hand from his arm. "Ye'll' know fer' certain that yer' pretty lass is snug an' safe with us. An' I'll know, sweet Cherry, that ye' willnae' consider putting mah' brother before me again."

**7-7-7**

"So that be the pretty widow of yours, I've been hearing about so much, eh, Vael?" Standing in the shelter of a shop window, Knight-Vigilant Cullen squinted through the swirling snow, to where Marian had just reappeared from behind one of the market's brick pillars. "Such a shame she's hidden away in that cloak. Can't take a proper look at the chit."

"Lady Hawke, is far from a chit, sir," Sebastian said his gaze following Marian with concern. She was moving slowly; clutching the cloak around her body as if she were frozen. And he couldn't seem to forget how upset she'd been earlier. "She's considered a woman of substance and position in this city. Her tavern is praised by many as the best in Thedas."

"Always the gentleman, aren't you Vael." Cullen remarked blowing his nose loudly. "So is the lady as eager to "repent" her sins, as the last pair in Tevinter?" Sebastian cleared his throat uncomfortably, wishing the Knight-Vigilant hadn't the memory of a bloody elephant.

"Mrs. Zinovia and her daughter were altogether different."

"Ha, willing enough to prove their loyalty to the Divine, with a certain Templar officer if I recall correctly." Cullen retorted, leering at Sebastian over his handkerchief. "You were up to your knees in velvety, pink kitty there, and don't try to tell me otherwise!" Sebastian didn't. Cullen wouldn't believe, that he'd turned away the advances of both, Mrs. Zinovia and her plump, pigeon toed daughter, the entire time he'd been housed in their tavern. Maker, only knew it hadn't been easy; Mrs. Zinovia had been most insistent, she had even kept an extra key to his bedchamber.

But while Sebastian had taken his vows very seriously, he also knew most of his regiment had not, and wondered wearily how many wagers had been placed already, among his men regarding him and Marian Hawke. "You know sir, that there are a score of other men housed under her roof as well." Said Sebastian. "Besides as charming as my landlady most certainly is, I rather thought I'd been placed under her roof for a reason other than to amuse myself."

The Knight-Vigilant snorted. "Dear Sebastian, with our lives so certain to be cut short, do you honestly believe the Divine expects us to ignore our pleasures when we have chances to indulge them? If I was in your boots serha, I'd have already flipped that fine woman, ass over tits." He sneezed loudly, wiping his noise once more. "Well then, Vael, if you haven't pricked the woman yet, I trust you've at least overheard something useful in her taproom."

"Something, yes, sir." Sebastian answered relieved to be talking about more then Marian's assets. "Yesterday, Lady Hawke was away from the tavern for most the day, and her staff knowingly evaded my questions as to her whereabouts. By accident, I stumbled upon her returning late that evening, and I'm convinced she lied about where she'd been. Quite cleverly, I must admit, but a lie just the same."

The Knight-Vigilance amber eyes narrowed harshly, his cold forgotten. "Protecting a rebel nest, eh? No doubt acting as some kind of go between or mule. You had her searched?"

Sebastian himself had seen the contents of her basket, but he well knew, there were dozens of other places on a woman's person, where a letter or map could be hidden. Inwardly he winced, as he realized how careless he'd been. "I was satisfied at the time sir," he said. "But I do believe that she might-"

"No 'might,' Vael," said Cullen, interrupting sharply. "I want her watched in her home. When she leaves the Rose I want her followed!"

"Yes, sir," Sebastian nodded. "I'll see to it myself." As he agreed, his eyes found her flaming red locks. She had paused at another stall, bending slightly to study a bundle of collard greens spread out for her inspection, when a dark-haired boy darted through the crowd to her. Whoever the boy was, she knew him. For when he slipped something into her hand – a note? – A coin, maybe – She took his hand, and drew him near enough to kiss him lightly on the cheek. The boy hovered close, arms wrapped around her neck, listening to whatever she said as she bent over him. Until a thickset man with a broad-brimmed hat shielding his face, came to rest his hand on the boy's shoulder and lead him away. Marian waved as they left her, a small, hesitant gesture that the man either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

Sebastian frowned, angered by the tall man's callous treatment of her. Marian knew him that was clear enough. But then, why had the man been in such haste to lead the boy from her, and why, too, did she linger to watch them retreat, her shoulders bent in a wistful, dejected manner?

The dark haired boy looked up to speak to the man, and the man glanced downward to listen. As he did, the same wind that had swirled the snowflakes; caught the broad brim of his hat lifting it back and away from his face. Swiftly he caught it with one hand and jammed it back down, but not before he'd given Sebastian a clear, open view of his face.

A familiar face, Sebastian thought as he struggled to keep his own expression impassive before Cullen, as familiar as the one he saw every morning in his shaving mirror. And why shouldn't it be? They were brothers after all. One who served the Maker, while the other served anarchy and treason.

And both knew the incomparable Mistress, Marian Hawke

"Aye, Vael, it's often the vixen, that leads the hunter to the den," the Knight-Vigilant was saying, with no small satisfaction. "Follow her, and I bet we'll have the whole pack of traitorous rogues, in the palm of our hands.


	12. Chapter 12

_The Rogue's Conquest_

Chapter Twelve

"It doesn't look like much of a turn out tonight Mistress," said François Xavier sadly, to Marian. " Minuscule, it is, terribly minuscule. Maybe the taproom will fill out once the snow doesn't lay so thick on the ground." He rested his fiddle across his knee and reached for his tankard filled to the top with 'Oghern's special brew.' Ale from her cousin's long time friend and Dwarven companion, who insisted Marian keep the rancid stuff on tap, though she'd not an idea how François, or anyone for that matter drank the foul brew. It could strip paint right off the walls, _Literally!_ She'd used it as a beloved ally when she'd been redecorating the Rose.

Following the fiddler's crestfallen gaze, over the rim of his tankard to the small, tin cup beside him on the bench, Marian couldn't help but sigh. One sovereign, three silvers and a single bit wasn't nearly payment enough for a fiddler as accomplished as François, even on a Thursday, in the middle of December. And the near empty tavern angered her.

"It's no fault of the snow, François, and you know that," she countered miserably. "Most nights the snow's good for business. If a man is forced to spend an entire day in his home huddled around his fire, by nightfall he'll find any excuse to leave it. Nay, I lay all the blame at the Divine's slippered feet and the feet of her prettily armored lap dogs! May the black void take them all for ruining my trade!" She sighed again, rubbing the bridge of her nose, her frustration masking her deeper worries and fears. Between the snow and the Templars surrounding the tavern, she hadn't been able to slip away to see Nova again, and though she'd sent little notes and sweet candies – including the double choco chip cookie Dallas had impulsively slipped into her palm at the market square – it wasn't the same as holding her daughter in her arms, or hearing her infectious laughter waft through the inn.

Marian constantly reminded herself over and over how this was for the best, that despite Gabriel's threat, Nova was safer with her cousin than she ever would be in town. But still, she found herself dwelling over the little notes Nova would write in return, each of them ending in a plea to come home. And it hadn't been hard to guess that the rippled, blotches in the paper were made by the girl's precious tears. By the Gods the ones Marian shed nightly were more than a match for them.

More worrisome though, was the fact that Nova hadn't been the only one missing from her life. She had neither seen, nor heard from Gabriel Vael since their meeting in the market. Not that she'd have any news to share with him, since his brother had seemed to disappear, as well. It wasn't that Sebastian had changed his living quarters. Far from it! She would sometimes overhear his silken brogue through the walls, while he gave orders to his young Corporal as they left in the morning. And at night she could identify his heavy footfalls on the stairs, when he returned late. But, where as before she couldn't seem to shake the man, now she couldn't seem to catch him. He hadn't even contrived an excuse for them to meet passing in the hallway. She told herself that she was relieved for that, but knew it was a lie. If it had been the truth, she wouldn't need to constantly convince herself how happy she was to be rid of his company. Shuttering her thoughts closed with great difficulty, Marian forced herself to count the handful of guests tonight; instead of the number of times Sebastian Vael hadn't been smiling her way.

An even dozen, that was all. Before the Templars had landed her taproom would have been filled to overflowing with lords and ladies, drinking, smoking, laughing and dining, arguing politics and banging their tankards to François's fiddle. There would've undoubtedly been a private supper in the back dining room and another party in the cards room. Gentlemen would be gathered in the billiards room playing on the table she'd imported special from Nevarra.

Marian knew well how to cater to the tastes of the gentry in Kirkwall, whether it was Orleasian wines, or Antivan smoke. But such wants were expensive, and for her to turn her usual profit required a balancing act between her creditors and patrons, with great delicacy even in the best of time. Now, only fourteen days after the Templars had docked, the Rose's best upstairs chambers were empty and the candles in the card room unlit, and here in the taproom only a dozen men gathered to sip their drink. Many of her best customers, like Gabriel Vael, had been forced into hiding like common thieves, from the Chantry's dogs. While more and more, of the city's other citizens packed their families into carts heading for Antiva, Nevarra and even Tevinter. And the ones who still stuck around Kirkwall, simply preferred to stay home, in favor of not being questioned by the white, armored guards, in front of the Rose's grand doors.

Gabriel had once said, he and the rebels hoped to have the Templars turned back to Orlais by Solstice eve. Marian now prayed he was right. For if he was wrong, she wouldn't be able to keep the Rose from sinking. Rubbing her arms vigorously from the chill not even the warmth from the roaring hearth could diminish, Marian looked back to the old fiddler. "You needn't worry about that shameful wage as your evening's toil. I'll make up the difference myself Frankie." Francois frowned up into Marian's face, his salt and pepper brows drawing together in a single line, as he clicked his tongue.

"Nay, Mistress, I can't allow you to do that. You said yourself this is the Divine's fault. She's the one who should be paying my fee, not your own dear pocket. Wrinkling her nose, Marian snickered lightly.

"Frankie if you can get the Divine to pay your fee, I'll give you the Rose and worship you, sir, as a God!" She said patting his thin shoulder. "Until then though, leave it to me, to make up your loss, and in return play me a set of jigs the more merry the better." The little man smiled with such open devotion for her, that Marian couldn't help but smile back with open sincerity. Like Orana with her cooking, François too could go anywhere and find work with his fiddle, and endless memory for tunes. But the man, much like Orana would stay with Marian now, and even later when she couldn't afford to be as generous as she was tonight.

"Jigs it be, mum," he said, rubbing the rosin on his bow. "For you and no other."

She dipped him a small curtsy, to honor his loyalty, kissing his time worn cheek before she went to greet the new customer she heard at the door in the hall. With great care she kept a smile plastered on her face, though she was horrified by the quick glimpse she'd caught of herself in the looking glass over the hearth. Surely the circles beneath her eyes were a false trick of the candlelight. How could she expect to offer the people of Kirkwall a safe haven from their worries, when she herself looked so worn and fearful? _Well least Jean-Luc's gown looks exquisite. _She thought bitterly, though she doubted very much that she was doing it justice.

"A good evening to you, serha," she called cheerfully as she hurried to the hall, her arms extended in greeting. The man remained hidden by the open door, while he knocked the snow from his boots against the step outside. A thoughtful gentleman, decided Marian, and one despite the hour not so far into his cups, that he'd stopped caring what happened to her floors. A gentleman indeed, one to be welcomed with pleasure! With renewed faith, Marian brightened her smile more. "A cold night it may be, serha, but here at the Rose, I can personally promise you good cheer and warm company."

"And both are precisely what I've need for Lady Hawke," Said Sebastian as he closed the door behind him. He swung his cloak from his shoulders, sprinkling snowflakes like diamonds, delivering both it and his helm, into Serendipity's waiting hands. "That and a decent fire to quell the chill in my bones."

"Knight - - Knight-Commander Vael!" To suddenly have him standing before her after days of longing and doubt, left Marian near speechless, twisting strands of her crimson hair in her fingers like a giddy schoolgirl. She had never seen him clothed so handsomely before. In place of his usual bone armor, he wore a crisp white dress uniform, his white coat heavy with gold embroidery, badges of honor and prestige lining his left breast pocket. The hanks of honey-brown hair that usually laid about his face, were now pulled back into tight, plaited braids on either side of his head, pulled together with a piece of golden thread, the style very reminiscent of Viking warlords from the past. Like this, Sebastian Vael was simply breathtaking.

"Your servant ma'am." He bowed neatly from the waist, while he motioned toward the taproom. "A warm cup of spiced cider, please Ma'am, before I retire to my room for the evening. That and a taste of this generous company you promise."

"Knight-Commander wait, please, wait a moment!" began Marian anxiously. "That is, you cannot – I cannot-" But he had already brushed by her, leaving her to chase after him, hands fisted in the sides of her sapphire dress so as not to trip on it's hem. "Knight-Commander please!"

He stopped at the fireplace and turned, gracing her with a wide smile. All the while he ignored the hostile stares of the others around them, and the way François's fiddle squeaked to a halt.

"A mug of your famed spiced cider, Lady Hawke," he ordered walking toward the bar where Jethann filled in as the Rose's barkeep. "In a tavern as highly recommended as yours, I assume the cider shall be very fine indeed."

Marian stood in front of him, her hands clasped stiffly before her, while Jethann looked to her for orders. Though Sebastian might've been unaware of the resentment and outright hatred that flowed from the others, Marian certainly wasn't, in fact she felt it so acutely it was painful. _What in the void are you doing Vael? _

"Knight-Commander Vael," she pleaded again, "please, don't ask this of me."

"Oh, now I understand dear lady," he said calmly, reaching into his pocket. "I've heard this before, hard sovereign always solves it. Here I suspect this shall be sufficient."

Marian stared at the sovereign in his hand, every ounce of her willpower roping a tight hold on her urge to light his gold, covered palm ablaze. He didn't remember the last time he'd done something achingly similar. And why should he? It had meant nothing to him. But once before he had tried to set things to rights with a handful of sovereign and then, like now, he'd only succeeded in making them worse.

"It's not a question of gold, Knight-Commander, but of loyalties." Said Marian, lifting her chin slightly; while she prayed her voice wouldn't wave like a white flag. At least she knew better than to look into his eyes. Instead she kept her eyes firmly on the flames over his shoulder, which danced entrancingly in the hearth. "I can't stop you, or your men from claiming my best rooms as your quarters," she said carefully. "But even with the Divine's flags and guards standing outside my tavern doors, my place and my sympathy still lay with freedom and liberty. Call this tavern what you please – a rebel taproom, a nest of abominations – but your Orleasian coin is not welcome here, sir, nor are you. Now I wish you a good night, Commander." Marian stood very still, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She couldn't have made her feelings anymore clear, and she knew her words would be repeated a hundred and one times before breakfast. She hoped for both her and Nova's sake they'd reach Gabriel's ears too…But, why, wasn't Sebastian leaving?

Instead, he rested one hand on the hilt of his dress sword, tossing the sovereign in the other so that they chimed loudly through the quite taproom. His smile remained, but were it had once been easy charm, it was now guarded and faked. "So Lady Hawke," he said softly. "Because of my uniform you refuse to serve me?"

"Yes," She said simply emboldened now, her voice barely shaking. This whole scene, this whole conversation, seemed unreal. As if they'd stepped into a play, Varric had written for her customers' amusement.

"And it's fair to say then, Lady Hawke, you wouldn't be willing to drink with me?" Dumbfounded by the invitation to drink with him, Marian folded her arms defensively over her chest, pinning him with a sharp angry glance.

"No, serha, I most certainly will not."

"Ah." He slipped the coins back into his pocket. "A pity, Lady Hawke. Your spiced cider would've made our conversation far more agreeable I think."

"Conversation, Knight-Commander?" she ask warily, not sure where he was going with his display. "To my knowledge, there's nothing more between us to be discussed."

"Oh yes ma'am, I fear there is." Slowly, with the grace of a jungle cat, he moved across the room, his heavy footsteps clanking hard upon the floorboards, until he stood nearly nose, too, nose with her.

_Too close, far too close!_ Her frantic mind whispered. She fought the urge to back away and put more distance between them. To back away now would acknowledge that he was right when he was so clearly wrong, before the very people she had, had to fight to gain the respect of in the first place. She refused to be intimidated.

"I believe it's high time we discuss the truth about Gabriel Vael, and know that _YOUR_ freedom ma'am lies in the answers I receive from you." Marian felt her expression falter, her bold façade falling away so quickly she couldn't stop it. She hadn't expected this from him, not in the slightest, though it seemed crudely obvious now that he'd planned to confront her about Gabe, the moment he entered the tavern. He likely hadn't expected her to serve him. His order for cider a clever way of throwing her off her guard. And by the Gods it had worked, she couldn't deny that.

"Gabriel Vael," she repeated slowly, unsure what to say. For all Marian knew he could be bluffing. _Aye that has to be it_! She thought with certainty her calm returning. "Why do you ask me of serha Vael? He and his family are well known around these parts that's true. But what I can personally tell you of the man?" Marian mused, pushing her index finger into her own chest. "Is very little indeed."

"Indeed?" drawled Sebastian, skepticism practically dripping from the single word. "I believe your being too modest Lady Hawke. I've heard you keep much closer company with Gabriel than that. So close, that when he comes looking for you, he prefers to use your kitchen door. Maybe it's just me, but that seems like familiarity only held between old acquaintances."

"Old acquaintance, or mere convenience, Knight-Commander?" Her attempt at a laugh was brittle. Gods help her he may know everything. With his face so stoic, she simply couldn't tell. "The Rose's kitchen door is often used by guests who bring their horses to Cricket in the stable. If I recall correctly serha, you, yourself have used the luxury of the kitchen door." 

"Aye, except you forget, that Gabriel is particularly mistrustful of horses," countered Sebastian. "Stables hold few interests for him. But your kitchen ma'am and your famed hospitality, seems to be quite a different story." Marian shrugged with a nonchalance she didn't feel. If she allowed his barge of questions to continue so publicly she'd be the centerpiece of Kirkwall's gossip tree, her reputation shredded outright.  
>Clearing her throat and setting her shoulders back in stubborn defiance, Marian pinned him with her most fearsome gaze. "I feel sure Commander, that these people grow tired of our discussion," she said sharply, though every person's eyes and ears were riveted on them. "If they wished to listen to such tedious questioning as this, they'd go to the court house, not come to the Rose." <p>

"Truly Mistress, you broke the mold for perfect hostess, always keeping an eye toward your patrons welfare!" He smiled, though for the first time his merriment didn't touch his eyes. "Another room then Lady Hawke, if it pleases you?" It didn't please her, not in the least, but she couldn't see another way around it, for it pleased her even less to be grilled in front of her people so openly.

"Very well Knight-Commander," she said, with a slight nod of her head. "I suggest we retreat to the kitchen since Orana is out tonight, and leave these gents to their pleasures."  
>Stepping gracefully to the side, she waved a hand toward the far door, which marked the kitchen. Sebastian bowed his head signaling his agreement, and waited for her to lead the way. As prettily done as any ballroom waltz, Marian thought miserably, as if they'd been long time partners in the sacred dance.<p>

He could talk all he wanted about fearing this and that, but the facts were she was the most frightened in this moment, than she'd ever been in her life. She couldn't just blast him away with a snowstorm as she would an ogre. Nay, she'd need level headed finesse that she unfortunately, could never seem to keep around him. Forcing a smile to her face she twitched her sapphire skirt toward François in a signal to resume the music before heading to the kitchen, Sebastian right on her heels so close she thought she could feel his breath at her neck.  
>7-7-7 <p>

Sebastian watched her walk in front of him, across the taproom to the empty kitchen pausing only to light the candles in the dark room with little sparks of magic. When he'd watched her fawn over the sapphire number in the market he'd known she'd look amazing in it, though the woman could wear a paper bag, and still look phenomenal. The cut of the dress, showed expansive amounts, of her tanned shoulder blades and ample chest, while the tightly cinched, sapphire bodice emphasized the generous curve of her backside, than flared out and down, in pretty waves to the floor. A pair of golden stiletto heels, small, blue diamond earrings and her heart shaped locket - she never seemed to be without – were her only accessories. The entire effect was elegant and costly, fit for a lady of Orlais, or royalty even.

Sebastian would have told her how she took his breath away this evening, if she'd been in any mood to listen to his compliments. But he wasn't foolish, he knew better than to say a word by simply watching the straight, unyielding line of her back. He guessed with an inward sigh, that she was likely very angry with him. Whether that anger was about to spill into unhinged, fireball throwing fury, he guessed he'd soon be finding out.  
>She knelt stiffly, using another tiny spark of magic, to relight the kitchen hearth, while he silently shut the door behind him. Standing she brushed her skirt, before squaring her shoulders and sighing lightly, a sound that could have been either an annoyed grumble, or nervous gulp, before she tuned toward him. <p>

"Here we are Knight-Commanders," she purred. " I do believe you wished to interrogate me, have at me serha!" He couldn't help cringing at her words.

"Interrogate is too strong a word, Mari. I only want to ask you a question, or two regarding my brother, that's all." 

"That's all! " She cried, a little hysterical, taking him by surprise. "You call me out in front of my customers. Then you imply improprieties between your brother and I. Implications serha that could ruin my grand reputation, and then you have the audacity to tell me 'that is all!'" 

"Mari there was no other way-" 

"A gentleman would have found one Sebastian!" 

"Then a gentleman, would have immediately made you an outcast in your city," Sebastian growled, tired of dancing these circles with her. "You worry about what people will say of you now, but what would have people whispered instead, if you'd come here with me directly, without having a chance to make your rebel speech?" 

"That wouldn't have happened!" 

"Oh come off it, Mari, that's bullshit and you know it," he continued relentlessly, wincing slightly at the tone he took with her. "What would the girl who took my cloak and helm, tell her mother, who would than tell her sister, and so on, until all of Kirkwall knew? Damn it woman, at least this way you're allied with my brother, a position seemingly more popular in this city, than being a mage, loyal to a Templar Officer. And you've also been able to make your blasted rebel beliefs as well-known as if you'd shouted them from your highest window!"

7-7-7 

With her head bowed, Marian sagged dejectedly, back against the hearths mantelpiece. He was right damn him. He always was. _Damn him!_

"I tell you, Mari, that I-" 

"No," she said her voice strained. "You must not call me that again. I gave you my leave, I know, but it wasn't right of me to do. I am your enemy and we must never forget that." 

"And I, Mistress? What am I?" Troubled, she looked up at him through the sweep of her lashes, her chin tucked low. In the hearths light his eyes were shadowed, unreadable, above the firm, fierce curve of his lips, yet still she felt the spell of attraction pulling them closer. _What was he to her?_ The most beautiful man she'd ever known, pleasure and pain, temptation and ruin in one undeniably perfect package. And despite the awful, sorrowful price she'd paid, for her desire for him once before, she still wanted to be here with him, to hear him say her name in his sultry voice, the way only he could.  
><em>But what you want doesn't matter anymore Mari- <em>and that was fact, for the only one that mattered now was Nova. 

"You," she whispered. "You are my enemy." 

"Yer' enemy, mum, yer' ENEMY!" he growled brokenly, his brogue breaking through the Orlesian/Ferelden one he'd come to Kirkwall with and the only hint to what would come next. Fast as lightening and twice as frightening, he lashed out against the oak table beside him, sending the pottery and china crashing to the floor with a great sweep of his massive arm, swinging back to face her, his eyes as wild and feral as his sudden temper. 

"Knight-Commander Vael, please-" 

"Nay, Mistress Hawke ye' will listen!" he ordered. "Tonight ah' dined with the Knight-Vigilant an' mah' fella' officers, men Ah' considered as dear an' honorable as brothers. Yet the table with which we dined upon belongs - belonged tae' mah' mammy, the china that bore our meal was marked with mah' family's crest. An' when we drank tae' the Divine's health, the glasses were filled with cider from mah' brother's cellar. Ah' may be yer' enemy, ma'am, but it appears ah' am mah' own as well." 

Marian swallowed hard in attempt to force down the dry lump in her throat, searching his face. Part of her said she should be afraid, that she should leave him now before his temper and frustration were turned toward her instead of her china. But she wasn't, at least not of us temper. 

"But it was your choice, wasn't it?" she asked gently not wanting to scratch the beast she could see him trying so desperately to control. "No one forced you to become an officer of the Divine."  
>7-7-7 <p>

He came to stand beside her, resting his hands on the mantelpiece as he stared down into the flame she'd created. Trying to calm himself, so his words wouldn't sound as foreign and broken as they must have, he'd trained himself to sound less Starkhaven, more Orlesian while living in Orlais, but every so often when his emotions got the better of him, his brogue came out. He hated losing his temper, especially before her. Such outbursts were shameful, unworthy of a Knight-Commander. "Nay' dear lady, Ah' paid quite dearly fer' the privilege tae' stand by the Divine's side, with the mark of Andraste on mah' belt." he said, attempting to sound impassive, instead of desperate. "Close tae' three thousand sovereign, if Ah' recall correctly. Nearly the amount my grandfather had left tae' me." 

"Three thousand sovereign is a great deal of coin for anyone," she whispered, gently placing a small hand on top of his own. "Quite dear indeed." She'd never know how grateful he was for the gentleness in both her voice and soft touch.

"The Maker only knows now, if Ah' am enemy or savior, villain or hero, fer' Ah' fear I've lost all sense o' it myself," he said wearily. "How can Ah' know? Ah' came tae' this city, a place Ah' loved as a youth, believing Ah' could do good, serving both Maker and Divine. But instead Ah' am hated by the very people Ah' am ordered tae' protect, reviled, spat upon an' shot at by those who would have at one time smiled my way."  
>He turned and slowly reached out to brush curls of crimson from her cheek with the back of his hand. "Except fer' ye' lass, " he said. "Mah' dear Mari. Ye' alone have shown me kindness an' concern. Only ye' sweet lass have dared tae' judge me, nah' by my armor, but by the man that lay beneath.<br>7-7-7

She felt like a deer caught staring at a lantern's flame, trapped in the heat of his gaze as the warmth it brought crept across her cheeks. It wasn't mere kindness alone that had made her treat him as she had. She understood all to well the loneliness she heard sneak into his words, for she'd fallen victim to it often enough herself.  
>But that wasn't it either, not even close. It wasn't loneliness that made her heart race, or her body turn aching with need, nor was it loneliness that roused a memory that she'd thought long dead in the past, and forgotten. Though it was almost sure to kill her, she eased herself from his tender touch, swiftly walking to the oak table. With unsteady fingers, she proceeded to collect the shattered pieces of china from the floor, placing them in the basket from under the sink.<br>7-7-7 

Behind Marian, Sebastian's fingers hovered uselessly in the space she'd left, still aching to touch the velvety curve of her cheek. At last he let it fall to his side awkwardly. He knew she felt the same longing he did, he had seen it in her blazing eyes. But if she was strong enough to pull away, then so was he. 

"Ah'll be payin' for that," he managed to say gruffly. "Ah' insist." 

"Of course you will," she replied not looking at him. "Even the Divine's elite must be held responsible for their damages." Sebastian frowned. He didn't like seeing her fuss over the mess he'd made, reminding him further of his shameful outburst.  
>"You ask about your brother. I have not seen him for two weeks at least, and that I swear is the truth." Sebastian hid his surprise, that she'd even be willing to say that much.<p>

"We've heard word that he fled tae' Antiva with his children." 

"Oh I do hope so!" she said sincerely. "For both his sake and the sake of his children, too, it would be the best thing possible." 

"It's hard for me to imagine Gabriel with children at all," Sebastian admitted sheepishly. "Last I saw him, just before I sailed fer' Orlais, from Starkhaven, he was still trying tae' ask for the young lady's hand. Maria I believe her name was. Maria Delaphant. How many children do they have?" 

"Three. Two girls and a boy." she said scooping the last bits of china into the basket she used, rubbing her hands free of the dust. "But Maria died a few years back at a Templar's hands, before the Chantry had been overthrown. I suspect you weren't told?"  
>Sebastian shook his head, barely able to remember the bright, merry lass who clapped her hands with delight whenever she laughed. How anyone could kill such a sweet girl - Sebastian couldn't understand.<p>

"May Andraste keep the poor lass safe."

"Amen." Mari chimed sitting back on her hunches, looking to him over her shoulder. "Gabriel misses her sorely. First Maria's death, then the up rise and now the 'inquiry'. You would, I think find him a very changed man." _Now_ nagged Sebastian's conscience, now was the time for him to press further and ask for names Gabriel associated with. She'd volunteered so much already, that it would seem natural for him to ask after friends that he and Gabriel had once had in common, friends that he suspected would be as deeply involved with this rebellion as Gabe himself was. Hadn't he come here tonight to learn exactly that? His duty demanded it, and Knight-Vigilant Cullen was growing impatient for something, anything to lay waste to this up rise. But instead, the man inside, had decided to settle on the swell of Marian's breasts. A sight that was mighty hard to avoid, with her still seated so gracefully on the floor in front of him. Had Gabriel done the same, and more when he beckoned at her kitchen door? Perhaps the rebellion had, had nothing to do with Gabriel's visits. A handsome widower left with three children, a pretty young widow with property of her own, it wouldn't be unheard of. What could be more natural? 

Or depressing, thought Sebastian bitterly. Not that he had any right to lay claim to Marian and her affections, but the thought of his brother doing just that, left a taste of poison on his tongue. He watched her smooth a piece of rich curls behind her ear, with a flick of her small wrist, her hand trailing down to rest self-consciously on the heart-shaped locket - her talisman. Or was it a gift from a lover? Sebastian's bitter misery grew by the moment. Had his brother gifted her with it? _Damnation!_ Why couldn't she call Gabriel her enemy in place of him? 

As the awkward silence grew between them, Sebastian became acutely aware of the fiddlers upbeat song from the other room. It had been a popular tune in Starkhaven and he couldn't help but hear the racy lyrics play in his head now.  
>He cleared his throat. She'd probably freeze his mouth shut, but he couldn't resist the opportunity that the song offered. Anything had to be better than moping over the claim Gabriel held on the woman he wanted for himself.<br>"I'd bet hard sovereign, your fiddler thinks himself quite the jester.  
>Sebastian watched her face falter in confusion. No doubt struggling to comprehend how they'd went from discussing his brother, to her fiddler.<p>

"François is the best fiddler in all of Thedas, but I've never considered the man particularly good with jests?" Sebastian didn't answer, waiting instead for the verse before he cleared his throat again and began to sing in a rough baritone.

The force of her magnetic pull was cruel and unusual

When she calls I wag my tail I'm harder than a coffin nail

A pilgrim on my bended knees

I'd cross the desert if it'd please you

Baby treat me, as you will. Yours to bless, yours to kill.

"Oh!" Gasped Mari indignantly, scurrying to her feet in a flurry of sapphire skirts and scarlet curls. "Oh how dare François do this to me. Well he'll soon be finding himself replaced with that Qunari that came to me just last week, with a dancing baboon, see if I don't just do it. I am a woman with which one just does not fuck!"

"Wait… Mari – Just wait!" Sebastian couldn't help the laughter that rumbled from him at her sputtering outrage. "Perhaps the poor fella plays at another's request. Tis still a fair enough tune. She glared at him, her grey eyes, flicking blue. And Sebastian thought how happy he was to not be the target of her supernatural orbs for once.

"Oh, Aye, fair enough to mock me with!" She growled baring her little, white teeth. "And if you'd stop cackling like a hyena for but a minute you'd realize that it mocks you as well! I don't even want to hazard a guess at what the rest of the horrid lyrics are. And the Gods mark my words, when I'm well and through with François he will never-"

"Stay Mari," Sebastian said, still chuckling as he gently grabbed her arm to hold her back. "I'm sure your poor fiddler means no harm."

"Oh please," she scoffed raising a shapely eyebrow at him. "The Gods only know, what becomes of that poor, wicked fool and his sinful harlot!"

"Neither of us, could possible know dear Mari," He teased. "For I am no more a poor, wicked fool, than you are, a sinful harlot." She narrowed her pretty eyes at him suspiciously.

"At least I'm no harlot, that I'm sure of." She said, but didn't attempt to pull away from him. "I however only have your word to assure me, you're not a poor, wicked fool. Emphasis on wicked, Vael." Loosening his grasp on her arm, Sebastian gently turned it over exposing her inner forearm. With the lightest touch, he feathered his index finger from the start of her small wrist, tracing it upwards following the light blue vein beneath her silky skin, as if it was his compass. When her body went ridged under his touch, Sebastian expected she'd pull away, instead her dusky lashes swept across her high cheekbones, as her eyelids slid shut, and a sigh escaped her plumped lips. The Black Divine take his brother, Sebastian thought with an air of triumph, or at least take him as far as Antiva. For he, Sebastian Vael was the one here with Marian now, and slowly he lifted the inside of her palm to his lips.

"What greater assurance could you ask of me, " he said his lips and teeth alternating between light caresses, and jolting nibbles, "then my word as a gentleman, a Vael at that, and an officer?"

**7-7-7 **

_And your enemy! _Marian's conscience screamed, but the warning was washed away as he nipped the heel of her palm. She shivered with the unexpected pleasure of it. His lips brushing across the sensitive flesh; had her fingers curling into the stubble of his warm jaw. "You're more wicked than the harlot the song sings of," she murmured on a breathy sigh. "So much for your word of honor." And by the Gods he did look wicked, thoroughly, unapologetically wicked, as he looked up at her from beneath his brows and slowly smiled. She'd never noticed before that when he smiled, a single dimple creased the right side of his mouth, like a little bracket for his smile. By firelight his eyes were a richer turquoise and his hair a burnished bronze. The little hawk pendent he wore, _her hawk pendent, _swung back and forth on the chain around his neck,rapping lightly on her wrist.

"I've missed you Marian Hawke," He whispered a dark, sensual whisper for her ears alone, as he glided her backward, stopping when her shoulders met the wall and her chest met his. "Though Maker knows, for both our sakes, I've tried to keep away." She swallowed hard knowing all too well the path this interlude would lead down. But she couldn't stop it. Marian Hawke had blasted a high dragon, or two into eternity, had earned the respect of, and then taken down a Qunari Arishok, and in her free time she killed mercs. But pulling away from Sebastian Vael? Impossible, she simply wasn't strong enough.

"But here you are." She mewled, her body aching from the tangible need they both emitted.

"And so," he murmured as he lowered his face, "it seems, are you." The next instant, Marian felt the first touch of his lips, and with a little whimper she closed her eyes and gave herself over to him. In a single moment eleven years fell away. The gentle, but demanding pressure of his kiss and fiery heat of it, was everything she remembered, and much, much more, for her memory had never been able to recapture the spellbinding, pleasure that he alone had brought her.

One kiss, she told herself, this single kiss, was all she would allow herself. One bittersweet temptation, to make up for the long years of loveless tumbles and consuming hardships. One kiss, to let herself pretend she was seventeen again, with the entire world and its promise still waiting to greet her. One kiss, she told herself, swaying against Sebastian opening her mouth to his, battling his tongue with the tricks she hadn't known on their first meeting, amongst the hay.

But it wasn't simply her mouth she opened to him, for she feared, as there tongues danced, that her soul had emerged from ashes to meet him once more. _Foolish Mari. Is very foolish! _

One kiss…

"Marian?"

Slowly she opened her eyes, bewildered and a tad peeved. Why would he pull away, what could possible make him want to stop the electric heat between them?

"Marian, look at me." He said with a bewilderment that matched her own. "How is it… I don't know…_Marian? _I don't know how it's possible, but it must be so."

She watched his brows draw together in a single line as he searched her face. The first wisp of fear at what he might find began to curl into Marian's racing heart. She tried to ease herself free, but he held her too tightly by the shoulders for any grand escape to take place.

"You make no sense Sebastian," she laughed nervously. "I should be returning to my guests, and you to your men." He shook his head, refusing to let her shake his attentions.

"Years ago, the night before I sailed for Starkhaven, I met a lass, in Redcliffe a tavern."

"You – you are mistaken, serha." Marian jerked free, her stomach roiling with fearful butterflies. "Too many years have passed for you to be so certain."

"But I am Mari." He pushed, relentlessly, following her around the kitchen, reaching for her hand, as he reached for the past. "A little serving girl afraid of her own shadow, and still completely oblivious of what her pretty face could do to a man. A sweet little thing with silver-blue eyes, a kiss that tasted as sweet as a spring peach, and lips as soft as velvet."

"No!" Marian growled, backing away from him, searching wildly for the door. "No, you're-"

"Yes, Mari," he said softly. "Because you are that lass."

On a strangled sob, she turned and fled.


	13. Chapter 13

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Thirteen _

"I don't understand Mari!" She heard him call, his head raised to Kirkwall's smoky sky. She'd known he'd follow her; that it was as inevitable as the moons steady descent, from dusk, to dawn. But she'd hoped that he'd give her time - as opposed to mere minutes - to absorb the sudden unraveling of eleven years worth of the tightly wrapped twine that was her life. _Leave it to Sebastian Vael, _Marian thought miserably, perched atop her balcony, her white wings furling and unfurling in twilights winter wind, as she watched him spin furiously about, searching the stable yard for her. - _To figure it all out at thee most inopportune time_.

By the Gods, she'd nearly been set ablaze by his passion, only to have the inner flame, so rudely doused out via his sudden epiphany. Why couldn't the man be observant when it mattered? Or at least not when their mouths were locked in such a fierce, primitive passion. Gods! Why did he, Sebastian Vael, have to go and feed her foolishness, by giving her hope that he had thought of her, that he had pined for her, his little serving lass, as she had pined for him, her charming rogue? Because now with hope filling the voided holes in her forsaken heart, she knew when he left this time - and he would leave - she'd never be able to recover.

"Why couldn't you just let the dead lie, Vael?" Her angered screams echoed. In the form of the hawk her voice was replaced by a mirror-shattering screech, catching his attention in the calm of night. His turquoise gaze pinned her orange orbs with intensity so fierce, it nearly rocked her small frame clear off of her perch. Marian's heart strummed another blazing assault against her ribcage. In the frantic fury of his stormy, ocean eyes lay the same knowing look he'd given her just minutes prior. That look that said he'd unearthed another of her sacred puzzle pieces, and was quickly clicking it into place. _Why couldn't you stay quiet Mari? Stupid…Stupid…Stupid!_

"Come down Mari," he whispered, eyes never wavering from her. "We have much to talk about."

Sister? … Earth to Marian Hawke - come in Mari!" Carver's hand appeared in front of her eyes, while his other shook her shoulder, startling her, a gasp escaping her lips before she could rein in her roiling emotions. Last nights events dematerialized before her, as she came back to the safety of her kitchen, Carver in front of her, a worried look in his tired eyes. "Are you well, sister? Should I get Anders?" He asked. "It's not like you to be so edgy." Marian forced herself to smile, though her balled hand was still pressed tightly against her racing heart.

"It's the wind brother, nothing more," She said, not looking Carver in the eyes for fear he'd see through her lie. "You know how I am with these winter storms. Having the wind rattle and howl around the windows like a rabid beast unsettles me."

"Ah, well, if that's all it is," said Carver, nudging her shoulder playfully, a wicked grin curving his mouth. "Here I thought it was that Templar commander, that had you so spooked." Marian barely stopped herself from gasping again. Were her fears really so transparent, that everyone around her could read her as if she were an open book? From the moment she flew away from Sebastian last night, like the coward she undoubtedly was, while he pleaded for her retreating form to comeback, Marian knew he'd come for her again, she had no doubt. Apparently for the moment, he'd haunt her in the form of her overly nosy, newly perceptive brother at that.

With great amounts of effort, and well-practiced control she willed her voice to be steady. "You assume too brashly, brother. Why should I be frightened of the Templar commander, or at least more so today than yesterday?"

"Oh, aye, sister. Why should you be scared at all?" Carver glanced at her slyly and chuckled. "Wasn't enough that I heard it from François Xavier. No, no. The moment I stepped from the estate this morning, Mrs. Butler came running from her own door to ask if what she'd heard of my dear sister was true." Marian's mouth went dry. They couldn't know, not this fast. They just couldn't!

"I've asked you before Carver, not to gossip with that woman." Marian said as sternly as she could. "Repeating rumors and idle talk discredits us."

"But it's not gossip when it's true, sister," protested Carver. "From what I hear there were a dozen men minimum in the taproom last night, that heard you stand-up to that Knight-Commander. He's a fool indeed, coming into the Rose and trying to bully you like that. I had a mind to teach him a lesson in Kirkwall hospitality, until Mrs. Butler said you refused to back down. Takes guts to tell a Templar his coin isn't welcome, nor is he. But you did Mari. Clear enough that even a thick-witted, lap-dog of the Divine; couldn't help but understand." Carver said merrily, pulling her into a tight embrace. "And the whole cities proud of you." He whispered, his chin resting on top of her head. "As am I."

"Thank you," Marian whispered back, pulling away from him, torn between relief and guilt. The city and Carver, would be feeling far less kindly toward her if they knew what else she'd done with the 'thick-witted, lap-dog.' "Though I don't see how I could have done otherwise, brother."

"Ah, but how you would have pleased Lloyd, Gods rest his soul!" _La sigh,_ there it was, salt in an already gaping wound, Carver's love for her dead husband. Though the man had been a terror to her, the Hawke twins had respected him. Loved him as the father figure they had been too young to remember in Malcolm. Though Lloyd had only been in their lives a short while, he'd made an impact on the impressionable youth. His one, brave – **and forced** – decision to help defend Redcliffe and dying while doing so, left Carver with a serious case of hero worship, that even as a man he couldn't be shaken from. "Poor Lloyd couldn't have done better himself. And that's the honest truth, sister." Carver snuffled, clearing his throat loudly, as he attempted to wipe his eyes discreetly of the moisture that accumulated around the edges, giving Marian far too much time to consider the awful irony in her brother's words. "Things have changed so much Mari, from our days in Redcliffe and not all for the best. It makes me sad to think of all we've lost to get here. But hearing how you cowed that Templar as you did, well nothings made me smile quite as wide. I was nervous when you agreed to this inquiry and stressed further when the Rose was over run by Templars. But I never should have doubted your capabilities sister. You are Marian Hawke, dragon slayer and Qunari tamer extraordinaire." Carver bellowed the last part, as a circus ringleader would to his adoring audience. Dropping his arms and pinning her with a look so full of admiration she feared he'd burst, Carver continued. "I heard about the whole ordeal and wanted to come tell you how proud I am to call you sister. I know we don't get to see much of each other these dark days, but I vow, once all this is over we'll be catching up. Until then though, I'm certain you have much to do, as do I." With a slight bow of his head and another bear hug, Carver turned to leave.

"No, wait, Carver, please!" Surprised, Carver paused his hand still in mid-air reaching for the brass doorknob, waiting for Marian to explain. To explain… Where did one begin? Her guilt and shame wanted her to admit to all her foul deeds, so that Carver would stop looking to her with admiration, because Gods knew, Marian Hawke was no idol! "Must you go right at this moment?" She asked anxiously. However guilt ridden she may be in front of her brother, his company was still more welcomed, than being left alone with her own conscience. "Surely you could have lunch with me, perhaps tea in the den afterwards?"

"Tea in the den?" Carver scoffed. "Mari this city is constantly on the brink of war, there's no time for such idle fancies. Once the Templars have left, we'll feast for days! I promise."

"But surely-"

"If you're scared of being alone here, Mari, then you only need to say so, and I'll stay," said Carver, an unreadable look gracing his chiseled face. "But I'd guess that a mage, who speaks up to Templar commanders won't be spooked by some wind and snow rattling the window pane.

"Of course I won't," Marian deplored, indignantly. She'd spent most of her life hiding her emotion, faking bravado and for the most part had done both exceptionally well. So why then now, when so much was at stake, had she suddenly become so appallingly honest with her feelings? "I was only worrying for you Carver you simply look so tired, and with the babe on the way… I figured some relaxation would be welcomed. Here, hand me my cloak, I'll see to the cities problems for the day myself, so you can have some time with Merrill. Gods know once the babe's here, time alone will be rare, precious moments indeed."

"You?" Carver scoffed, eyeing her suspiciously. "We agreed Mari, that when the Templars landed you wouldn't make appearances in court. If those brainwashed, packs of drooling zombies catch even a hint that you, **a MAGE** is the head of this city… I shutter to think what would happen."

Of course Carver was right. When the request for inquiry crossed her desk. Her and Carver had wondered if they should drop the façade, if she should get back into regular duties as the cities leader. After long, late night discussions however, they had agreed, that it was only logical to have a non-magic wielding, man, play the Viscount, as opposed to her, a petite mage and woman. Still it would have been nice to focus on simple land squabbles and not Sebastian Vael for a while.

"It wouldn't end well Mari, not well at all." Carver was saying, as he threw open the door. Before she could halt him, he marched steadfastly into the blowing snow, the wind whipping his shaggy brown hair about his face and his long cloak around his ankles. Shutting the door tightly behind Carver, Marian leaned her back on the sturdy frame, arching her head toward the ceiling, breathing deeply in an attempt to gain some semblance of her composure. She still had the young Lady Cousland, her last guest to see to, wallowing in her own self-pity wasn't helping anyone. With one last deep breath, Marian pushed away from the door, setting to work on the afternoon tray of chocolate and biscuits.

She sighed as she took the chocolate jar down from the pantry closet shelf. Next week would be the winter Solstice. Any other year, she would have already decorated the Rose with greenery, polished fruit and bows of colored ribbons to mark the holidays, but without Nova here to help her, she hadn't the heart even to begin. Besides, what was the point in spending the time and sovereign she no longer had? There wasn't a single private dinner or party scheduled between now and Solstice. Before the Templars came, her rooms would have been booked solid, with people from all over Thedas coming to participate in the grand festivities Kirkwall was known for.

Behind her she heard the door open again, the wind rushing around her ankles and ruffling her skirt. "By the Gods, Carver," she scolded playfully, without turning. "What have you forgotten? I swear if your head wasn't attached to your shoulders-"

"Have Ah' changed that much, Mistress." Said Gabriel Vael his voice hoarse from the cold, "that ye'd' mistake me fer' yer' young brother?"

In a rush, Marian spun around to face him. "What are you doing here, Gabriel?" She demanded, as he closed the door. "It's not Nova, is it? She's well, isn't she?"

"She was when Ah' saw her yesterday. Pretty as a bloomin' rose, that one."

"Then why are you here, Gabe, and in the middle of the day, too! Isn't it enough to risk your own neck, without putting mine through the noose, as well?"

"Hush now, Mari, donnae' be ridiculous." Heavy globs of wet snow dropped from his hat and shoulders as he moved toward the hearth to warm himself. "Those thin-skinned Orleasians' are all shivering indoors today. Even the soldiers at yer' doorstep have crawled off somewhere, if ye'd bothered tae' notice. There's neary' a single one o' them bastards about tae' see me, let alone try tae' haul ye' and Ah' tae' the Gallows."

"I'm not the one being ridiculous Gabe. You are."

"What Ah' am, Hawke, is powerfully tired o' hearing ye' question mah' reason." He grimaced, as the heat seeped back into his chilled fingers. "Are ye' sayin' the same tae' Sebastian, too, ah' wonder?"

Marian winced guiltily at the intimacy Gabriel was implying. If only he knew how close to the mark he was.

"What I say to your brother is none of your affair," she growled, her voice edgy and defensive. He glanced sharply over his shoulder at her.

"Donnae' turn forgetful on me, Mari."

"How can I, Gabe, with you always in my kitchen to remind me?" Somehow she managed to return the gaze of those hard, turquoise eyes, as she frantically pieced together an explanation he'd accept. If Gabriel believed she had something to hide, he wouldn't be put off the scent as easily as her brother had been. For Nova's sake, she couldn't afford to falter now, before him. "I promised to repeat whatever Sebastian said that might be useful to our side," she said, trying to be more passive than defensive. "But that is all, Gabe. I cannot gossip otherwise. No respectable tavern keep will whisper a guest's conversations, even if the guest is an unwelcome Templar."

Slowly he relaxed, his grudging smile white against his dark beard. "Ye've' trained yerself' well, Marian, haven't ye'? A woman who refuses tae' gossip – Gods, lass, that alone is enough tae' make me ask fer' yer' hand once again. Ah' do believe ye've grown prettier, too, if that's even possible."

"Gabriel, be serious." Marian chided lightly, coming to stand beside him, her expression full of concern. "Sebastian came here last night asking questions about you. He's searched your home, questioned your neighbors-"

"He's found nothing." Gabriel stated, his face hardening.

"I don't know if he did or not. He thinks you've fled to Antiva with the children. I wish he'd been right."

"He was… Partly, anyways. Ah' sent Aria and Alexa upriver tae' stay with some friends, but kept Dallas with me. An' oh, sweet Cherry, ye' should have seen how the lad proved his worth with us last night!" Marian sucked in a shaky breath, cringing at the image of dread she'd seen in the boy's eyes.

"What did you do, Gabe?"

"Only what we Kirkwallers should have weeks ago," he declared his face animated with excitement. "A party o' us rowed intae' Sundermount's Cove, an' crept up the rocks tae' fire into a house where a pack o' the Templar bastards are quartered. Easiest game in the world, Mari, all o' those bastards sitting in their pristine dress coats, like candles in the windows. We must have hit a good dozen o' em, before the damned fools even realized what was happening. We got clear away, too, no casualties on our side. Though we did have tae' row like the river was catching fire tae' get away."

For one awful, heart stopping moment Marian wondered if Sebastian had been one of the men sitting, too close to the window. Gods, oh dear Gods! If Gabe were given a second chance, he would kill his brother without hesitation. But of course Sebastian had been here, with her. Of course he was safe. Hadn't kissing him been proof enough of how gloriously alive he was? And why, why, did she care so much? "This is only the beginning, little Hawke," promised Gabe, with a passion that sickened her. Marian had killed many a man, but never did she relish in the fact. "We'll strike them again, an' again, an' again. Ye' may have allowed the Templars tae' take the city without a fight, but by the Gods, they'll have tae' walk through the Black Void tae' keep her."

"I'd order you to back down Gabe, but I fear my Government over this city no longer applies. Your ten-year-old son might believe in your battle cry, but I cannot." Marian sighed unhappily, physically feeling the reins of control slip from her grasp. "Oh Gabe, don't you realize what you've done? Before this the Templars only suspected you, but now – now they'll have a reason for hunting you down." He looked at her incredulously.

"Do ye' think Ah'd' want it any other way, Mari? This is a blasted war, nomatter what the Divine would like us tae' believe!"

"But think of your children!"

"Ah' am thinking of them, Mari, an' the kind of future Ah' want them tae' have. Why the Black Divine else would Ah'-"

"Shush, Gabe, listen! Someone's coming!" They both froze, listening to the man's footsteps in the hall. Without a word Gabriel grabbed his hat from the table and turned toward the back door, but Marian seized his arm.

"There isn't time," she whispered urgently, shoving him toward the pantry closet, still open from when she'd been searching for the chocolate jar. "Hurry, go in there now. _Now!" _She had barely managed to shut the closet's door when the one from the hallway swung open behind her. She took a split-second to compose herself before she turned, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Knight-Commander Vael!" The pleasant smile evaporated, as confusion stained her cheeks. "I didn't expect… That is to say…" She paused glancing toward the ceiling. _Oh, you sirs and madames, have an evil sense of HAHA. _She thought bitterly, inwardly shaking a fist to the heavens. Sebastian bowed stiffly. Today he was dressed not for fashion, or even for safety, but instead for the weather, with the reveres of a serviceable wool uniform coat buttoned across his chest, thick leather gloves on his hands, and in place of his usually horned helm he wore a simple, but thick, black, wool-lined beanie. Though he'd brushed the snow from his shoulders, his cheeks were still red from the wind and it was clear he'd come to find her here as soon as he returned to his quarters.

"It is I who must make apologies, ma'am," he said with a grim formality. "I intended to find you this morning, but an unfortunate matter has kept me away until now. My rebel brother, it seems, was most certainly not in Antiva last night." With her heart pounding painfully in her chest, Mari couldn't decide which sudden realization was worse – Gabriel's life depending upon her being able to make Sebastian leave, or knowing that her daughter's future could be destroyed by what Gabe might now overhear.

"An apology isn't necessary, Knight-Commander, and neither is your need to track me down," she said, choosing her words with infinite care. "There was nothing left unsaid in our conversation last night."

"Nothing?" Impatiently he stepped forward and leaned across the table that separated them, his gaze searching her face. "Nothing, Mari? When the truth is, that nothing was said, and everything was left unanswered."

"You are mistaken, sir." Marian said coolly. Hoping to discourage him by looking away, she began to set the little chocolate cups and saucers on the tray, her nervous fingers making the green and white porcelain rattle against the steel tray. Where was Orana? Her sleeve brushed over the edge of the tray, knocking a silver spoon to the floor. Swiftly she bent to pick it up, thankful for the excuse to duck out of the line of Sebastian's intense gaze, even if it was only for a moment. But as she knelt, to her horror she noticed the puddles of melting snow that Gabe had left, an incriminating path across the floorboards from the back door, to the hearth and finally to the closet. If Sebastian came around the table, he'd be sure to see the trail for himself, and no explanation or deflection in the world would stop him from opening the closet door.

Quickly she rose to her feet, wiping the spoon on the edge of her apron before she returned it to the tray. "I must excuse myself now Knight-Commander," she said, turning away from him to fetch the warmed milk from the hearth, "as you can see, I have other responsibilities that call for my attention."

"Damn yer' responsibilities, Mari, an' look at me!" He reached across the table and caught her wrist, his gloved fingers holding her tightly. "After what we have been tae' each other, do ye' nae' believe Ah' deserve more from ye'?"

She prayed he couldn't feel how she was shaking. "You are my enemy, Knight-Commander, nothing more," she growled. "Why can't you understand that?"

"Mari, listen tae' me! Ye' cannae' deny the past as if it never happened!"

"I can, Sebastian, because it didn't!" She cried, her desperation growing, as she dreaded what Gabriel must make of this conversation. "I am a decent woman, a respectable widow, and what you – what you suggest of me – shames both me and my husband's memory!"

"But Mari, Ah' never-"

"No!" She pulled herself free, furiously rubbing her wrist where he'd held her, trying to wipe away the memory of his touch. "Now good day, Knight-Commander. Good day!" She watched his gaze flick down to follow her gesture, then his face crease into a frown.

"Ah' willnae' be dismissed like this, Mari," he said, and began to come around the table to her and the guilty trail of melted snow. "Ah' am not some servant that ye' can send away on a whim."

"No, you must not!" She bellowed, panicking. She rushed ahead of him and pulled her cloak from the peg behind the door. "If you will not leave me here in peace, as I ask, why, then I shall be the one to leave you!" With that she threw open the door and raced into the swirling snow. The snow was deeper than she'd expected, slowing her footsteps and dragging at her skirt, but she didn't stop, walking so quickly that she was nearly running. Behind her she heard Sebastian shout her name to call her back, then a muffled growl that she was sure was an oath, and then… nothing. To her surprise - and dismay – he didn't seem to be following. But she didn't dare slow her pace to make certain, or look back over her shoulder in case he was there, ready to misinterpret such a glance as encouragement. Instead she plunged on through the snow, the wind driving the icy flakes against her face and tugging her cloak.

She had no gloves, or boots, and the cloak she kept by the door was an old rag she used to rush to the well, or stable. It certainly wasn't suited for traipsing about the city streets in a snowstorm. Her thin-soled slippers, quickly soaked through, and her feet were numb in her wet stockings. She knew she should find shelter soon, but had no notion where she was going, beyond leaving the Vael brothers behind. Turning down an alley to avoid the wind, she saw the tall pointed peak of the Chantry looming before her, like a grand beacon in the swirling snow. Though she'd never stepped foot inside the newly built, holy walls she didn't see any other choice, but to now.

Much to her relief, the Chantry was empty as she hoped it would be on a Friday afternoon, and though the candles on the altar and in the chandelier remained unlit, the pale, gray light from the storm, filtered through the double rows of arched stained glass windows, casting eerie multi-colored shadows through the pews. From long ingrained habit she headed for the pew farthest back, closest to the door and behind a pillar, to guard her from suspicious eyes. She'd always liked the beautiful songs the Chantry sisters would sing, but as a mage never felt thoroughly safe enough to sit upfront or partake, preferring to watch, listen and pray that no one figured her out.

Shivering, Marian opened the little door to the pew and slid down onto the polished bench. The unheated Chantry wasn't much warmer than the street had been, but at least it was dry and quiet. She slipped her feet from her wet shoes and tucked them beneath her skirt, wrapping her hands tightly around her knees. She didn't try to pray; her conscience wouldn't let her. By now Sebastian must have discovered Gabriel and had him arrested. It was her doing – her failure, really – that one brother must take the other prisoner. That two men, bound so close by blood would now see that same blood spilled. If only she hadn't kissed Sebastian last night, then he wouldn't have come looking for her this afternoon. Oh, dear Gods, if only she'd truly been strong like she pretended, instead of weak as she was.

And though she would not be tried and hanged like Gabriel would for being a traitor, she would still be punished. Once the story spread, as it now inevitably would, she would forever lose her good name, her home and her livelihood. She would be ruined, shamed and her poor innocent daughter along with her. And all of it, all of it, had come from that single night, so long ago, when she had dared to dream of love with a dark-haired stranger. With her head bowed beneath her despair, she curled her frozen fingers around the locket with Nova and Bethany's portraits, and tried not to consider the bitter price that the lost dream had cost.

**7-7-7**

It was in the Chantry Sebastian found her, curled into the corner of the pew. Her hood had fallen back from her damp, tangled hair, and her wind burned cheek lay against the rough wool of her cloak. At first, because her eyes were shut, he thought she'd fallen asleep. But the anguish in her face, held none of the peace of sleep; nor did the way she clutched the little locket so tightly in her hand.

"Mari," he whispered, not wishing to startle her. "Mari, lass." Her eyes flew open and she lifted her head, tossing her hair back from her forehead as she stared at him in unwelcoming silence, her silver, blue, orange eyes as wary as a hunted animal's. But he'd come this far. Too late to retreat. "I was stopped by one of my soldiers," he explained. "A question regarding orders that I couldn't ignore. Even officers must stop for soldiers, you know." He began to smile, hoping she would, too. When she didn't, he self-consciously studied the hat in his hands, frowning a bit as he brushed melting snow from the heavy wool beanie. "I wouldn't have let you go otherwise," he said gruffly. "You know, running off into the snow like that wasn't wise. I meant to stop you."

"And so you'll always follow me, even here?" She asked, her voice no more than a ragged whisper. "Am I to have no sanctuary from you at all?"

Sebastian sighed, still concentrating on the beanie in his hands. Damnation, he'd known this wasn't going to be easy, but he hadn't counted on her making it so much harder. Without waiting for the invitation that would never come from her, he swung open the little door and joined her in the pew, being sure to leave a decent length of polished wood between them.

"If I believed half the talk in this town about you, Marian Hawke," he began softly, "then I'd swear you could walk straight down to the docks, and directly across the water itself. Tavern keep and hostess, wife and widow, mother and aye, a great rebel queen, too, yet all of it done well, with rare grace and honor. If you've any faults, I've yet to hear of them."

He saw the fear flicker in her eyes, and nearly as quickly witnessed her snuff it out. But still her fingers returned to the locket, and again he wondered enviously whose picture it contained.

**7-7-7**

How thorough you have been, Knight-Commander," she said, so swiftly that the words nearly left her breathless. Of course someone would have told him she had a daughter, but to hear it from him, her daughter's true father, was still enough to shock her with the haunting peril of her situation. "And how flattering, too. But am I to be allowed no secrets of my own?"

"Only one. How is it that such a lady, a paragon of every virtue, a warrior woman known to stand in proud rebellion where others of her sex would cower – how is it that she can still harbor, also, such remarkable cowardice in her own heart?" She frowned, his words making the hairs on the back of her neck raise to attention.

"Perhaps such pretty talk shows well in Orlais, Knight-Commander, but it doesn't with me."

"Pretty talk, is it?" Sebastian replied rapping his fingers on the pew in front of them. "But perhaps you are right. Kirkwall isn't Orlais, and you aren't simply a helpless tavern keep like you try to play. So why then, Marian Hawke, must you always turn tail and run from me?"

"Because you are a man of the Divine," she answered quickly, that much was easy, and true. "Because you wear the face of Andraste on your belt, and are my enemy."

"Damnation, Mari, we both know there's more to it than that!"

She glared daggers at him. "Hush, sir, and remember where you are!"

With obvious effort, he lowered his voice, continuing. "Then you remember it, too, Mari and tell me the truth. I would never wish to bring you harm or suffering. Surely by now you can believe that much of me. So what could I have done, to make you avoid me like the taint?"

"You still don't know?" She whispered, hugging her knees more tightly to her chest. "Even – even after last night, you don't know?" She screeched erratically, no longer sure how to get him to follow the breadcrumb path she'd been feverishly making for him.

"Especially after last night." He sighed heavily, reaching out to trail a finger across the back of her hand. "I had thought that discovering we shared a past might bring you closer to me, not force you to fly off in the body of a hawk!" She shivered at the light touch, yet didn't pull away. How could she? In the harsh multi-colored lights, without the soft magic of evening's candlelight, he seemed as world-weary and care-worn as she, herself felt. The seductive officer of the night before reduced to the tired, lonely man who now turned to her. Even his bronzed mane somehow seemed dulled, and the lines that fanned from his turquoise eyes now seemed almost brutally, etched there. Was it really regret that had done this to him, she wondered skeptically, or merely a man's unhappiness at being rejected by a woman?

With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to once more and for the last time focus on the past – that "shared past," he'd called it. _Really shows how much attention he's been paying Mari. _Her mind prodded crudely. "You ask why I run from you," she began slowly. Making certain this time he'd get it! "And why I should fear you. Perhaps it's because you're a man that you yourself cannot understand, and-"

"Mari, I-"

"No, listen! For once just listen Sebastian. I beg you hear me first." Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Mari wandered her eyes over him to be sure she had him at attention before she continued. "When I first saw you, I thought you were the most perfect gentlemen that the Gods had ever made." _Ringing any bells Vael? _She wondered bitterly, while he sat, as stone like as a statue, his face too stoic to betray him. "When you noticed me, when you spoke to me and smiled, I couldn't believe my good luck. Oh, I'd been warned about the traps that men could lay for naïve country girls - how could I serve ale in a tavern, so near the docks and not see and hear otherwise? – but you were different. You weren't a rough, wild militiaman, or a Templar soldier." _Irony much_? "You were a gentlemen, and Gods help me, I trusted you."

"You were different, too, Mari," began Sebastian. "There among the smoke and filth of that horrid place, you stood out like the fairest, freshest little country peach."

"I wasn't a flower, Sebastian!" Marian growled, how dense could a man be? He still didn't understand he was the wolf that haunted her every hour of the day. "I was a seventeen-year-old girl, near dieing for kind words of love, without a mother or father to watch over her, and far too much responsibility weighing on her shoulders. And I was a virgin, Sebastian. Did you even notice that? Fool that I was, I would have given you my heart, but all you took was my innocence. 'A wolf will betray a lamb', I believe you said."

**7-7-7**

Appalled, Sebastian shook his head furiously, not wanting to believe her though he knew he should. _The wolf?! Maker no! _"How could I have known? I'd been drinking cheap ale all night with my brothers. You were a pretty little wench in a low alehouse, that served pirates, and when you lead me to the loft-"

"You tried to pay me," she interrupted, her voice breaking. "Do you remember that? Once you'd taken your own pleasure, you couldn't button your breeches fast enough to be rid of me. A handful of silvers that was what I'd been worth to you. I couldn't take it though, and Gods know I could have used it. You treated me as your whore, but as long as I didn't take your coin, I wouldn't be one." She was crying now. Her tears nearly killing him, for he was the cause of all her sorrow. The selfish youth he had been, single-handedly turned Marian Hawke, Kirkwall's rebel queen, and a proud, strong woman, into a miserable pile of despair and hopelessness. A porcelain doll, Sebastian feared, that he had inadvertently broken. "You took so much from me, Sebastian." She said, hot tears streaking her face in waves. "My hopes, my dreams of love and a handsome young sweetheart. A wedding with springs first bloomed flowers and dancing. A little house near the water with roses in the garden and – and, oh, everything that foolish young girls pray for and desire!"

"But you did marry," Sebastian protested. "You married a man, and bore his daughter." For a long unsettling moment her tears stopped flowing, and she looked at him, but not _at him, _instead it was as if she were looking through him, towards a ghost that lay far in the past.

"Yeah, I married Lloyd," she finally said, with a strange, icy calm. "I did. But not for love, Sebastian. Love wasn't what bound me to him. Necessity, perhaps."

_Not for love_. The words echoed loudly in Sebastian's conscience. A woman as fine as Mari deserved to be wed to a man who loved her, a man she in return would love with all the passion and tenderness she'd been gifted. He remembered the special kindnesses she'd shown him since he'd arrived in Kirkwall, how she'd tended his wound that first night without betraying him, every sudden, shy smile she'd granted him, and he remembered, too, the sultry promise of her kiss the night before. All this she'd given to a man who was her enemy, the same man who had so unwittingly destroyed her innocence. He longed to take her into his arms, to wipe away her tears and stroke her tangled hair away from her face, to tell her somehow how sorry he was for everything. But he didn't, instead choosing to stare down at his hat that rested on the bench beside him. How could he dare to offer her comfort, with such pitifully simple gestures?

"Will you believe me if I say that I never forgot you?" He whispered. "You were the last woman I…" Sebastian paused, clearing his throat awkwardly, not entirely sure what to call their night together. "Before I left Starkhaven, the last lady who smiled at me. I thought of you often on the long crossing to Kirkwall, then even more when I sailed for Orlais. You'd called me a gentleman, mistaking me – the rogue I was – for a Lord. And though my brothers laughed, I didn't. Do you remember that?" Still he didn't look at her, smiling instead to himself. "Until I proved myself to the Orleasian elite, I was scorned for being from Starkhaven, little better than a savage in Orlais. I can't begin to tell you how many times I remembered you then, the sweet-faced little lass with solemn gray-blue eyes."

**7-7-7**

Marian felt fat tears welling up once more, and the weakness they betrayed, _her weakness, _shamed her. She wasn't a woman who cried, hadn't since she'd been but a girl. Yet here she sat blubbering like a babe, wishing Sebastian would hold her, praying that for once she could be the one to lean on a firm shoulder, instead of being the steady shoulder. "You didn't even know my name," she hiccoughed, head bowed, as her fingers played with the hem of the apron, she still wore. "You never asked."

"Ah' was a fool youth, Mari, a rogue," he said, rich emotion breaking through in his brogue. "Ah' willnae' make any excuses, because there are nae' any worth making. If Ah'd' bothered tae' learn yer' name, then Ah' would have known who ye' were the moment Keran introduced us. Ye've' changed, no mistake. Ye're' a Lady o' standing in this city, a beauty, too, an' few would believe how far ye've' come from where ye' began. But when Ah' kissed ye', Ah' knew. Because no matter how desperately ye've' tried tae' bury yer' past, the shy, little serving lass ah' remember is still within ye'." Now he came to sit beside her, his thick plated thigh, settling against her thinly robed one on the bench. Slowly and with great care he reached to take her chilly hand into his and she let him carefully weave their fingers together. "Ye' can accuse me all ye' wish o' making pretty speeches, lass," he said, "but now Ah' find Ah' have nae' half the words Ah' need. Ye' and Redcliffe, an' a time before this infernal rebellion, who Ah' was and what Ah've' become – it's all just tumbled together, Mari, an' it would seem ye're' the one key Ah' have, the only one that matters, tae' help me sort it out. Will ye' give me that much, Mari? Together, could we begin again?"

Marian stared down at their hands twined together, trying to control the wild, desperate flurry of hope in her heart. Was it possible that he felt the regret – and the attraction – as keenly as she did? Once before, she had trusted him, and found nothing but heartache. But she had changed since then, and she wanted to believe that he had, too. Another time - this time, everything could be different between them. And yet beyond hope, and the foolishly quickened pace of her heart, she knew that the bitter certainties of their lives hadn't changed at all. As a woman, she was the one with so much more to lose, and always would be. With Nova, Gabriel and the shambles of a free city surrounding them, the risks were increased a hundred and ten percent.

But oh, how much, how very much, she wished she could trust her heart instead!

She eased her fingers free, instantly missing the warmth of his hand around hers. "I cannot do this, Sebastian," she said miserably. "What you ask of me now – I can't do it." He smiled, his brilliant smile and brushed away a loose lock of her hair with such tenderness she almost lost her resolve.

"I'm not asking ye' to do anything alone, sweet. I intend tae' be there, too, ye' know."

With his sweet words lingering in the air around them, Marian shook her head hard, as much to deny herself as him.

"You are Templar, I, a mage, as well as a woman," she said sadly. "And we both know that to bring down a Templar, or a man one needs a sword, or a bow, and some luck. But to destroy a mage, or woman, it takes only words. Words, that's all, and our good names, our lives, are gone."

**7-7-7**

Impatiently he swept his hand through the air, dismissing her objections. "You, of all women, mustn't let gossip rule your life."

"Do you really believe I am so different?" she asked skeptically. "You said yourself that here in Kirkwall, I could walk across water. But how long would that last if my… My association with you, an enemy to the city, became known?"

"Do you think so little of me?" Sebastian demanded, more wounded than angry. "That I'm the sort of brute who boasts of conquests?"

"Oh, Sebastian, I don't know what to think anymore." Lightly she laid her fingertips across the bow of his mouth, in a gesture to silence him. "But to trust again, to risk everything I know, for you? I can't do it." He took her wrist to hold her hand steady as she moved to get up from the bench, brushing his lips across her fingers, turning her gesture into a kiss. He saw how her eyes widened, and with inward triumph he heard the little catch in her breath. She could deny her feelings all she wanted, but denying alone wasn't going to make them, or him go away.

"I won't abandon the field so easily, Mari," he said, his voice husky with deep-seated longing. "I won't be losing you a second time."

**7-7-7**

"I never thought I was yours to lose at all, Vael." With a show of more purpose than she felt, Mari pulled her hand free. But her gaze remained locked with his, a strange mixture of fierce determination and longing, swirled in his turquoise orbs. With determination of her own, Marian hardened her heart and attempted to squeeze around him in the small pew, only to be met with resistance in the form of his knees in front of her. "Move, out of my way Sebastian. We are done talking." She said, firmly though her heart rioted.

"I will Mari, once you answer me one last question."

Swallowing hard, she leveled him with as calm of a gaze, as she could, terrified of what next gut ripping question he had come up with. But seeing no other alternative, other then straddling his legs to get over him – an intimacy she didn't dare tempt, with her emotions so bitterly in turmoil - She simply nodded her agreement to hearing him out.

"You delivered Flint Company's Crests to me personally. I assume you also are the merc who killed them. Why? Why would you do me such a grand favor, without even taking payment for it when I failed you so horribly?" Marian tried desperately to hide her surprise, though her mouth gaped wide. She knew he'd caught her as the hawk. By the Gods, he'd tried talking to her while she flew from him. But with all the turmoil and revelations, she never expected him to put it all together so quick. A gesture at the time that she had been, too, sentimental to pass up. _Balls!_

"I didn't take your coin, Sebastian, because I didn't do it for you. I read your post, and was moved, but I didn't do it **for you**. And I only gave you the crests, because no one should have to stumble through such tragedy, and not know that their loved ones were avenged.

"If not for me, then who Mari."

Marian stood, as still as a statue. What was she to say now? She'd answered his question, only to be saddled with yet another hard one.

"Lady Hawke, ma'am!"

"Revered Mother Rosa!" Marian said merrily, swiftly scurrying by Sebastian as he slid back stunned in the bench.

"Revered Mother?" He questioned, shocked eyes on the young Ravaini woman before him.

"Yes, Knight-Commander." Marian said with a smile. "Mother Rosa is the most well-versed Andrastian I've ever met. When my brother and I revived the Chantry, it had been only natural to put her at the head of the flock."

"I- I… It's an honor" Sebastian said still too stunned to form proper words, as he went to his knees before Rosa, as was proper practice.

"Stand child," Rosa laughed softly, bringing her voice down to a conspiratorially whisper. "Your Templar brethren would hang you for treason if they witnessed you kneeling before a mage, me too, if they witnessed me wearing these blessed robes."

"I would like to receive your blessings Revered Mother," Sebastian said simply surprising Marian, but not seeming to phase Rosa. "Hard times, I fear are upon us, a blessing from a woman so dear to the Maker would help."

Marian watched the two go through the Chantry motions each one playing their role to a T, both certain in their places and she couldn't help but feel jealousy rise. What was her role? Who was she? She just didn't know, and the realization devastated her. In front of her kneeled the man that could change all that. Could once more re-ignite purpose, she'd lost too long ago. And yet even now, knowing he could be her souls salvation she was forced to once again deny herself. _Gods!_

"Lady Hawke," Rosa questioned, concern creasing her young face. "Is everything alright? You don't look well." Plastering a smile on her face she inclined her head first to Sebastian and then to Mother Rosa before she spoke. "I am fine, the day has just been cold, and I suppose it's affected my mood. Please don't concern yourself with me, Revered Mother. I'm leaving now." She said drawing her hood over her head, without looking again at Sebastian. "We are done, you see. Quite, quite done."


	14. Chapter 14

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Fourteen_

Slinking back into the warm comfort of her quarters, Marian sat upon the white, satin seat cushion that adorned her cherry wood, desk chair. Marian closed her eyes tight, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to relieve the tension that had begun to build in her temples.

"Andraste's flaming knickers!" she sighed gloomily, as the weight, and fates of the city, and her people descended down upon her shoulders with a harsh, merciless efficiency. She'd been tracing her index finger, with slow, lifeless strokes, over the Orleasian seal etched in the top, left hand corner of the paper before her, for what felt like hours. Trying – and failing - to give the ominous parchment her full attention.

_Don't fret so, Mari, it's only the whole bloody city at stake!_ Her wicked mind goaded, as she leaned back further. Shifting her weight she lifted the sturdy chair's front legs off the ground and balanced on the back, a practice she employed to help force her mind to focus. And Gods did she need to focus, now, more than ever! It would seem Gabriel's daft actions had somehow already reached Orlais and straight to Justinia's ears. What had once only been an inquiry; was looking much more like the beginning of war.

Shocking? Nay, she'd expected it, eventually, but eventually was the key word. **Eventually**, was a distance in the future when the city had maybe had time to fully rebuild from it's initial severance from the Chantry. Now however, thanks in large part to the brash thinking Vael, eventually had become mere weeks.

If Marian couldn't, or wouldn't, hand over the people on the Divine's list, a list that sat before her on her desk, - amongst the fifty other papers that needed her, – then the Divine was calling for holy war. Holy war? _Balls_. She couldn't do, as the Divine demanded with such names as, Rana Arainai, Zevran Arainai, of course Gabriel Vael and Anders. Even Isabela had managed to make an appearance on the list. Gods only knew what the pirate queen had done to get under the Divine's skin, and it didn't matter; Marian couldn't commit the people that she cared for most to the hangman's noose.

However, even with her friend's lives hanging in front of her, she still couldn't focus. Instead preferring to shock her quill with tiny jolts of electricity, watching it dance in the air as it gracefully came back down, nearly touching her palm, before she'd shock it again. Up, twirl, down, it swayed over and over, like a childish game of keep away, and all the while she daydreamed about how tormented Sebastian looked the day before when he'd finally realized he was the wolf. How awful she'd felt for him, as he'd gone through four heartbreaking emotions - denial, resentment, acceptance and remorse, - all in the time span of minutes. And why? Why did she feel bad for him? He'd wronged her for Gods sake! But, here she sat, in her room, gazing dreamily out her balcony doors, still wishing times were different, that the problems between them didn't separate them, as a chain link fence, wrapped in barbed wire and soaked with Antivan poison would. Unfortunately now, with the Divine's demands looming over her, it would seem their problems were only going to get more complicated from here.

"Hawke?" The sound of her name and the light, insistent rapping on the door to her room was as insignificant as the sound of a pin dropping in a crowded ballroom, but still it startled her. The jolt of shock rocked her forward with so much force she was barely able to stop herself from smacking her nose on her desk, before she toppled to the floor hands flailing and legs caught in the train of her floor length, chiffon robe.

"Marian!" Isabela shouted, appearing in her doorway daggers unsheathed, a ferocious look creasing her pretty face.

"Relax Izzy," Marian huffed, blowing pieces of stray curls from her eyes, as she attempted to untangle her legs from the chair and her strapless gown, without exposing her breast to the chill of the morning.

"Are you shit faced?" Isabela asked, dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's not even past breakfast and your falling from chairs! Tsk, tsk, Sweets. This is becoming something of a regular occurrence!" Scolded Isabela jovially, swiftly recoiling her daggers back into their well worn sheathes.

"I'm not drunk B. You startled me that's all." Marian scoffed, her irritation with the pirate rising quicker than usual.

"I startled you? How do you think I felt, standing on the opposite side of this door?" Isabela questioned, hiking a thumb in the direction of the closed, door behind her as she made her way to Marian. "I thought an ogre was barreling through your room!"

"An ogre? Really B? I think you need to cut back on the coffee." Marian chided playfully, yanking Isabela's offered hand and pulling the pirate to the floor next to her.

"Alright maybe not an ogre, but that Knight-Commander I hear has taken some interest. What if he broke in here, and was trying to rekindle old flames, eh?" The pirate argued, settling on her side, head resting on her palm as she tossed Marian a devilish wink.

"Sebastian would never-" Marian paused, realizing she'd fallen into Isabela's trap. "You haven't been around for nearly two weeks, Bela, and your first order of business is to gossip!" Marian growled; her playful mood extinguished. Rising from the ground, she smoothed the ruffled pieces of her teal gown, being sure her romp with the chair hadn't put runs in the thin, billowy fabric, and then grabbed the Divine's letter. "This is what you should be worried about, B. Not my business with the Knight-Commander." She barked, tossing the paper on to Isabela's lap. "I'm almost afraid to ask how you made it on the Divine's radar."

Glancing over the missive with infuriating calm, in her hazy eyes, Isabela began. "Ah, so the Divine wants to meet with old Izzy!"

"Sure, if you call hanging from a noose a proper meeting, then ya." Marian retorted rolling her eyes. The pirate's nonchalance had Marian grinding her teeth and unable to shield her frustration. "What did you do?"

"One, can never truly know what they've done, to piss in the Divine's-"

"Isabela," Marian interrupted, her quickly simmering temper on the verge of boiling over. "This isn't a joke. The Divine, has given me four weeks, to produce you and everyone else on that list," Marian roared, grabbing the list from the spot on the floor where Isabela had let it fall, shaking it in front of the pirates eyes. "Or Kirkwall will be under holy war! Now, WHAT… DID … YOU… DO?" Finally wiping the smirk from her face, and the glimmer from her coal dark eyes, Isabela stood crossing her arms over her chest, in what Marian feared was a stance of defiance. Just what she needed, first Gabriel refused to heed her and now Bela was about to as well. _Bloody brilliant!_ How could she be expected to fight a war, when her allies seemed to no longer believe in her capabilities?

"I may have… You're going to laugh Hawke…. Really!" Isabela began instead, much to Marian's surprise and dismay. The nervous hitch in the pirate's voice, told her that she'd likely **NOT** be getting a laugh out of this confession. It was the Tome of Koslun, all over again. "Remember how when the Templar's arrived I was looking for young recruits that could be corrupted?" Isabela asked, but pressed on before Marian could answer. "Well… I may have corrupted a few… and sent their crests back to Orlais with a note that stated they'd partook in the sins of the flesh…" She paused, Marian's gaze following hers, as Bela sheepishly looked over her own body. "My flesh, to be precise… And that they had joined me on the dark side." Isabela finished, the last part coming out of her mouth so quickly, Marian almost wasn't sure what she had said…. ALMOST!

"What!" Marian bellowed. Red waves of fire sparked from her fingertips, as her anger rippled to insanity. "I don't care who you fuck Isabela, I don't even care if you corrupt every, bloody, Templar in this fucking city, but to rub it in the Divine's face when she has Kirkwall by the balls? That's fucking stupid even for you!" Marian slumped down on to her chair, her knees buckling as the tension in her head exploded behind her eyes in a painful chorus of black and silver stars, a dizzying effect that occurred only when both the hawk and the wolf felt the need to arise at the same time. _Sorry guys, I can neither fight, nor flee this time._ She whispered inwardly, in an attempt to sooth both, and convince herself as well. With another heavy sigh she closed her eyes and bowed her head, trying to balance her anger before she continued. Isabela was right, after all. Had this been any other time Marian would've likely helped the pirate, and then drunkenly giggled about the conquests later at the Hanged man, surrounded by the people she loved.

Hadn't it only been a few weeks since she; herself had been as nonchalant with Aveline about the whole invasion? How could she expect the pirate to take the Divine and her dogs seriously, when Marian, herself, hadn't until this morning?

"I swear B, between you and Gabriel-"

"Aye, I heard about his attack on the Templars. Bold."

"Reckless you mean?" The question Marian posed was rhetorical of course. She and Isabela were very different people. Where Bela thrived on brazen abandon, Marian preferred the certainty of success only a well-planned strategy could offer. "How many crests?" She asked, steering their conversation back to where it belonged.

"Two… Or twenty." Isabela murmured. But the slight pulse of the vein in her forehead, - the same tick that gave the pirate away when they played Wicked Grace,- told Marian she wasn't being completely forward.

"Isabela!"

"Alright, fifty… Ish." Isabela shrugged apologetically, as Marian's mouth dropped wide. Fifty…Ish, men and women of the Divine bailed from their vows for a single night with the Ravaini jezebel. Understandable? Yes, but it was no wonder now, why the Divine wanted penance paid.

"Fiftyish, really Isabela?" Marian questioned, too stunned to say anything else.

"Fifty-Nine actually." Isabela winced. "If were counting. Though I suspect the Divine won't know about the last nine until tomorrow, or the next day. I just sent them before I came here… It was a bet Mari, certainly you understand that!"

Placing her elbows on her desk, Marian roughly jammed her fingers into the silky, strands, of her unkempt hair. Every time Bela seemed to open her mouth this morning, her words made the thick sinking feeling in the pit of Marian's stomach worse, much, much worse. If the Divine had her way, she'd be hanging the pirate because of a bet?

"Bela." Marian muttered, too tired and broken for the fury she felt to raise.

"Yes, Mari."

"You need to leave."

"You want me to leave the city, Mari."

"If you knew what was good for you, you would. I won't force you from the city however, so no. But my presence at this time and for a little while? Yes, because right now I want to hand you over to the Templars, like I should have the Qunari."

"You can't mean that Hawke. I know your angry but-"

"I do mean it, - _no I don't_ - every single word - _is a lie_. Now leave me - _please don't go_!" Marian's mind warred with her cruel words, and her heart cracked in her chest as Isabela turned silently without meeting Marian's grave, stern gaze. Not a single witty remark escaped the pirate's cherried lips.

The pirate paused, her ramrod, straight back still facing Marian. "This was left at your door." She whispered, her voice barely audible as she pressed a golden envelope upon Marian's desk. With that, she left quietly, the same way she'd came.

**"Fuckkkkkkk!"** Marian exploded, standing abruptly, pounding both fists into her desk. The black and silver stars returned in full force, as she raged, punching a solid hole through the wall in front of her with a strength not her own but that of the wolf.

Through her life the Templar's had taken so much, too much from her, now the Divine wanted her friends, and if the old, prude got her way, she'd take Marian's sanity with them. Letting herself fall hard to the floor as the abrupt surge of energy began to ebb leaving her limps boneless and flimsy, Marian spotted the gold envelope Bela had left laying unharmed, on the opposite side of the room. Perhaps Carver had important news that needed to be sealed in an envelope instead of their usual Origami animals? Shuddering to think of what more tragic news awaited her, Marian slithered her body across the floor like a snake, toward the package.

On closer inspection however, she didn't recognize the perfect flow of the handwriting, it certainly wasn't Carver's chicken scratch, or any of her staff for that matter. Sitting up she scowled at the offending envelope, She didn't like the thought that someone had managed to sneak up here, to her private chambers without her hearing. It unsettled her, like the Deep Roads had; she wasn't a woman particularly fond of the unknown.

Perplexed by its mystery, she flipped the feather light package over and was met with her full name –Mrs. Marian Annika Hawke – was written gracefully across the top and underlined with such a grand, swirling flourish that the quill had sputtered with a little spray of ink. Thin red ribbon criss-crossed the packet to bind it shut, and for good measure a thick dollop of red wax sealed the folded edges together.

Crawling on her hands and knees, with the curious envelope clutched in her hand, she moved toward her balcony. Situating herself so that her back rested against the cool glass, she stretched her legs out from beneath her and tipped the little package to the early morning light, trying to better make out the seal's impression. Pressed into the red wax was the sun of Andraste, sitting protectively in the haven of the Makers vines, diamond shaped arrowheads, made famous by Starkhaven's royal family, protruded from the vines, as thorns do a rose, in fierce defense of both the Maker and his beloved.

She'd seen the crest often enough, every time she stood outside Gabriel Vael's door, and her heart sank further with dread. What trouble had Gabe gotten himself into now? She wondered as she hurriedly cracked the seal and slipped the ribbons away. She knew from Orana that Gabriel had left her kitchen unharmed the day before, but since then he could have met with any number of misfortunes. Or Nova – Gods, what if some ill had came upon her daughter at her cousin's house?

But, instead of the dire news Marian expected as she unfolded the flaps of the stiff golden envelope, a glistening, cobalt blue teardrop pendent with a celestial glow slipped from the package, a long white gold chain trailing behind as it met the floor. Frowning, she picked it up. Immediately the glow intensified, imbuing waves of warm lyrium blood beneath her skin, identical to how Fenris' brands worked. The glow dimmed when her mana was reenergized, as if the little teardrop knew just what she needed.

She'd heard rumors of jewels craved out of lyrium veins, but thought them myths. Anything capable of making a mage unstoppable on the battlefield, had to have been created out of Tevinter, which made the swirling teardrop even dearer indeed for having been smuggled into the Free Marches. Even if she subtracted its lyrium essence, Marian had never witnessed jewelry so fine in Kirkwall, even before the city was hit with tragedy after tragedy. She, herself had certainly never owned a bauble so elegant, and as she rolled the feather-light stone in her fingers, she read the note that accompanied it.

_ For the fiercest Lady Paragon in all Thedas,_

_ A small Remembrance of yesterday and a Pledge_

_ Of my Regard & Devotion,_

_ I am, Ma'am, Your most Humble and Obedient Servant._

_ Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven's Royal Line._

She couldn't accept such a gift from him; she couldn't accept anything. Hadn't he listened to a word that she told him yesterday in the Chantry? She would return the little teardrop as soon as she could, and make it clear to him that she wished no further gifts or letters from him. Yet even as she fumed over his blatant audacity, she let the unnaturally, warm jewel roll over her palm, as it's long, light chain tickled her thigh. Not even the lyrium stones she'd seen in the deep roads had been such a rich, elegant blue, and Fenris' lyrium kisses had never infused her with such power, that she became near high on the sweet, essence. Nor had any man given her such an extravagant gift. The trinkets that Lloyd would buy her had always been calculated more to impress others than to please her. But a jewel such as this one, was meant to be tucked in a sleeve, pocket or beneath a pillow, private places where only the owner could take secret pleasure in it's powers. The owner, and the giver, and in spite of herself Marian's cheeks flamed hot as she thought of Sebastian imagining the little pendent, with it's overly long chain resting beneath her robe and caressing the tender flesh between her breasts as it swayed with her steps.

_A small pledge of my regard and devotion…_

Nay, there was no question that the pendent must be given back. Tonight, when he returned to the Rose. Swiftly, before she could change her mind, she folded the jewel back into the letter, being certain not to knot the chain, then stuffed both in the pocket of her white cloak slinging the thick, wool lined cape over her shoulders, and with her gloves in her hands she hurried down the back stairs, through the kitchen.

She'd have to find Isabela, she couldn't keep things the way they were, but time for both of them to calm was best. Besides her errand now was of greater importance. Two days ago she had seen the perfect Solstice present for Nova in the Black Emporium. A miniature blue and white porcelain tea set, the tiny pot complete down to a spout that poured and a lid that would lift, all arranged on a polished sterling silver tray with a piecrust edge. But it's most attractive feature that would appeal to Nova's inquisitive eye, was that the little pot was magic. It could produce the users drink of choice, all one had to do was think of what they wanted and poof there it would be, perfect temperature every time, whether the drink was cold or hot. Marian had tested it herself asking for a coffee-coco infusion and had been greeted with the best-flavored mocha blend she'd ever encountered.

Because of it's magic qualities it was appallingly expensive. Marian had nearly fainted dead away when Xenon, with his creepy laugh, bellowed the price. Explaining unapologetically that the piece was rare in the sense that it was the only one ever produced and no one, not even the Antiquarian himself knew who created it. And that the ladies of Nevarra and Orlais had all been trying to track it down for their own personal parlors, as opposed to buying it for a child's tea party. Marian had soon retreated from the Emporium then, yet the more she thought of the little tea set, the less the cost had seemed to matter. She wasn't a titled lady, at least not by choice, and she didn't give a damn about snobby, parlor parties, but she did know that Nova had suffered much grief by being sent away from home, and if a magic blue-and-white porcelain tea set would help make up for that, why then, she would see that her daughter had it, even if it meant Marian would have to take up a few Merc contracts once more. No matter how the Templars had ruined her Inn, Solstice was still Solstice.

Lost in imagining Nova's excitement over the gift, she didn't hear the soldier's call until he repeated it.

"Halt, ma'am!" he called sharply as he stepped forward to block her path with the sharp point of an arrowhead. "You must stop, I say, ma'am, and heed me when I ask your business!"

Marian folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, as she contemplated the sharp spear aimed directly at her heart. Though she had almost become accustomed to the Templar sentries posted outside her front door, this was the first time she'd been accosted herself, and she didn't like it one bit. "_My_ business is exactly that," she hissed, "My own affair, and none of yours. Now, you sir, will be letting me pass."

"No, ma'am, I will not." He spoke sternly, hard eyes never wavering from hers, and Marian swore she could see the beginning sparks of malicious pleasure in their icy depths at her predicament. "My orders say you're not to leave this tavern alone."

"Whose orders?" she demanded. Like so many of the Templar sentries she'd seen, this one had the wolfish, hardened look of a man who'd seen his share of harsh battles, and she knew better then to try to sway him with soft smiles and fluttering lashes. "Why should it matter to the Divine where I walk in my own city?

"The Divine doesn't care a fig where you wander, ma'am. It was Knight-Commander Vael's orders, that you don't leave this place unattended."

"Is that so?" Marian spat, eyes narrowing further to little slits, as the wolf began to stir with her anger. What right did Sebastian think he had to restrict her like this? Bitterly Marian thought of his note with the lyrium kissed jewel in her pocket. Did he think her subdued compliance could be so easily bought? "So, what if I wish to leave this place?"

"Then I'm to come with you, ma'am." He looked over his shoulder and nodded crisply to the other guard, still at his post beside the Rose's door. He strapped his bow to his back, ready to follow her. "As you _wish_, ma'am."

Marian frowned for what seemed the hundredth time today, her frustration with the morning only growing worse. She wasn't sure if Sebastian meant the sentry as her escort, or her guard, but either way she would feel like the biggest fool in all of Kirkwall, parading around with a Templar soldier on her heels, like a lost pup. She certainly couldn't go to the Emporium; Xenon would have Thaddeus, the Antiquarians giant golem guard, pulverize them both.

"Very well," She said, with a crisp nod to mimic his. "If those are the Knight-Commander's orders, then you'd best lead me to him, so he can see how wonderful of a boy you've been, obeying him so well. Maybe he'll give you cookie, eh?" For an instant she saw surprise, annoyance and doubt flicker across the sentry's worn face, and she realized he hadn't really expected to go anywhere. _Well, good,_ she decided. If this man hadn't expected it, then neither would Sebastian.

Though the soldier slowed his steps for her sake, his long legs and his naturally brisk stride had Marian at a disadvantage, and by the time they reached the main docking square, she was breathless from trying to keep up. Each day different regiments used the docking square for exercises, and this morning the trampled snow was occupied by the brightly, shining white and gold uniforms of the twenty-fifth regiment, performing their drills before a small, silent group of brave spectators, who were mainly boys and old men. Ordinarily it would be near impossible to tell one Templar regiment from the next, but this was Sebastian's regiment. Somehow their armor glimmered brighter, the men and women, of the twenty-fifth, stood taller.

Instinctively, her eyes found and locked on Sebastian atop his great black stallion, between two other officers at the far side of the square. The sight he posed, - so proud and tall on the beasts back - should've been illegal, she thought miserably, no man should ever be aloud to look so bloody edible!

She followed her newly appointed lapdog to them, telling herself that the reason her heart was racing at such a ridiculous rate was that she'd been forced to walk so quickly. It had nothing at all to do with seeing Sebastian again, smiling and talking with the other officers. But when he turned and saw her standing below him, the brilliance of his smile, an open, uncalculated smile just for her, made her racing heart lurch to a dead halt.

"You and I need to have a few words, Knight-Commander," She shouted sternly over the rolling trumpets and drums. She pointed at the sentry now standing at attention beside her. "This man says that under your orders I am a prisoner in my own home, is everyone in Kirkwall under such orders, or am I alone-" Abruptly the drums ceased, and too late Marian realized she was still shouting. Her cheeks hot, she self-consciously lowered her voice. "So am I the only person in this city to have a guard tailing me, Knight-Commander? I can assure you it's not a pressie I wish for, and I've done nothing to deserve it. You know that Seb-" Catching herself, she licked her lips nervously, wishing she'd never came at all. "Knight-Commander- that is…. Now I insist that you change your orders immediately."

**7-7-7**

Sebastian had decided, with her cheeks bright pink and her silver eyes beginning to take on their orange eerie glow as she tried to stay stern with him, that Marian Hawke had never looked more charming. Unlike most women, fierce indignation became her.

But as charming as she was, and as happy as he'd been to finally remember why he recognized her burnt-orange orbs, Sebastian knew he'd better put an end to her public tirade before one of his men noticed the supernatural color, or she blurted something he'd rather keep private. He swung down from Adonis' back and tossed his reins to the sentry. "And a fine day to you, too, Mistress Hawke," he said, lifting his helm as he bowed to her. "Your servant, ma'am."

Marian's nose crinkled and her eyes narrowed to little slits. "I'm not here to listen to your pretty talk, Knight-Commander."

"So I've committed that sin again, have I, ma'am?" He sighed dejectedly, and looked back to the two other officers grinning behind him. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe this lady wishes to speak with me alone."

"Oh, Knight-Commander, I most certainly do," she said as Sebastian took her lightly by the elbow. "What's the meaning of your ridiculous guard dog, anyway?"

"It's for your own good, Mari, though I doubt you'll believe me." He led her through the passage between two empty warehouses and to a small fenced garden beyond. In the summer the garden must have been a pleasant place, filled with flowers, but now only a few brown stalks poked through the snow, and the grand oak in the center was stripped of it's leafs. "I generally try to give orders for a good reason."

"Oh, is that right," she bristled. "You're using your position to bully me, and you know it as well as I do."

His jovial humor began to fade. Damn the sentry who'd been assigned to follow her during this watch! If the fool man had any sense at all, he should have shown better judgment in his duty; Marian hadn't noticed any of the others assigned to her these last few weeks, at least not to complain about. Besides, Sebastian had hoped she'd come to him on another account. "No, I'm not, Mari, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to treat me like some merchant who's cheated you."

"If you were, I'd be treating you far, far worse," she stated, pulling her elbow free of him to fold her arms over her chest. "I must stand my ground, you know. The whole world preys on widowed mages."

"Oh, aye, such a weak, pitiful little widowed mage you are, too," he responded sarcastically. "And that's exactly why I don't want you wandering around Kirkwall unattended."

**7-7-7**

Unconvinced, Marian looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her chin held stubbornly low. This would all be a great deal easier for her if the man weren't so dreadfully handsome. She'd thought that their conversation in the Chantry yesterday would put an end to her unstable feelings, but to have him standing here before her, his helm in his hand, his sorrel hair fluttering like butterfly wings in the cold winter breeze, and the most disgustingly, irresistible glint in his turquoise eyes, was more than a woman should be asked to bear. "I told you before, Sebastian," she said. "I don't want anything from you." He frowned, and the irresistible glint dissipated from his eyes.

"In this you don't have any choice, Mari. The military situation in this city, in the entire compass of the Free Marches in fact, has changed, and not for the best."

"Situation this, situation that," she grumbled rolling her eyes. "If I sound too like a tavern keep to suit you, then you sound like some blow horn, old Templar officer."

"Right now that's exactly what I am. Marian, listen to me. The night before last, a pack of rebels attacked one of the outer houses quartering our men, out near Sundermount Cove. Fired in on them without any warning at all, then ran away into the night like the cowardly miscreants they are. Eight men killed outright, Mari, and as many wounded. Is that something you can understand? She didn't answer. How could she? It was something she could understand all to clearly. She remembered Gabriel's version of the same night, how proud he'd been to be a part of the warfare, and she remembered, also, how he'd promised there'd be more blood lost, from the Divine's Elite in the weeks to come.

**7-7-7**

She was good at masking her feelings, thought Sebastian as he watched her face, very good indeed. But still he'd caught the little hitch in her breathing and the way her lips parted, and it was more than enough to betray her.

"You're not surprised," he said. "Perhaps I've told you nothing that you haven't heard before?"

She lifted her chin a notch, obviously determined to meet his suspicion head on. "It's common knowledge in the city, and such huge news is discussed quite openly in my taproom. I'd have to be deaf not to hear it. Besides, you mentioned it yourself yesterday."

"Then you'll recall I mentioned my brother, too." Sebastian sighed heavily. "Gabriel's one of the leaders. He and his friends had the audacity to send the Knight-Vigilant a letter this morning, signing their names. Balls', made of brass my brother seems to have. Though perhaps you knew that already, as well?"

"I didn't," she said, with a quick sharp shake of her head. "I wish Gabe hadn't – Oh, how sorry, and saddened I am to hear this!"

Tapping the hilt of his dress sword, he pinned Marian with equally saddened eyes. "You know I can't protect him," he whispered, finding it hard to find his voice, with such sorrowful words rolling from his lips. "And if I have the chance, I'll capture him myself. Just as I'm quite sure that if I'd been among the men on the Cove, he would have shot at me first. The damned fortunes of war, eh?"

She reached her gloved hand out to rest it on his frozen cheek. Instantly he could feel the warming sensations of her magic crawling through his body. A gesture he now recognized - cuddling his cheek into her palm - as her way to comfort, and Maker was it better than any words could have been. "I can't help Gabe, Mari," he said softly, "but perhaps I can do as much for you. That's the reason for the guard that you find so irritating. Oh, I know, you're a poor widow working night and day to keep a roof over her head. But the truth is, you run an Inn that encourages the worst sort of rebels and the treasonous whispers they spout."

"No, Sebastian, it's not-"

"It is," he said sternly. "You keep rough company, sweet lass, my brother Gabriel included. This way I won't have to worry about you coming to grief when this erupts, and mark my words, it will erupt." Against his wishes she pulled her hand away from his cheek.

"But I'm not your responsibility!" Said Marian softly, curling her hands together.

"I rather hoped you were." He smiled crookedly; he was, after all only half lying about the guard. "Fortunately, the Divine agrees. What better way for me to protect her strayed flock and put down the rebellion?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Sebastian!"

"I've never been more serious, Mari. This way you can go wherever you please – to the market, to visit your brother, his pretty wife, ripe with your niece, or nephew; even your daughter in the countryside. He saw how the next protest died, forgotten on her tongue, how the emotions she'd kept so tightly reined before now seemed to run wild across her pretty face as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Puzzled, he tried to think of what he'd said that would upset her this way – the market, her brother, the babe? Her daughter – but none of them would frighten her like this. It must have been the threat of being captured, and now he wished he'd been more considerate. Of course Marian Hawke, a woman who literally had wings to soar upon would be terrified of being caged, of course-

"That's not possible," she blurted out. "To visit my daughter, I mean. It's – that's not possible."

Sebastian's puzzlement deepened. "I can understand why you sent her from Kirkwall," he said lightly, trying to tread more carefully. "You're hardly the first mother to send her child to a safer place during this rebellion. But if you miss her, then by all means visit her. Just take the sentry with you."

But Marian only shook her head, her eyes wide with wild panic.

Suddenly the answer hit him as if she'd leveled him with a Stonefist to the chest. "You sent her with Gabe's children, didn't you?" He asked gently. "She's gone with the others to Antiva?"

The relief that flooded Marian's face was answer enough, an answer that left Sebastian feeling that all too familiar ache of envy. Why would she trust his rogue brother with her only child, and yet refuse even the simplest kindness from him? With a drawn out sigh, Sebastian settled his helm on his head and offered her his arm. Nothing had gone the way he'd hoped when he'd brought her to this chilly little garden, but then, where he and Marian Hawke were concerned, nothing ever did. "Come, you must be freezing. I'll take you back to the others."

"Wait, Sebastian, please." She nearly pleaded, catching his attention as she tugged off her glove to reach into the pocket of her cloak, and drew out his slightly wrinkled note with the cobalt jewel. "Here, you have to take this back. It's very sweet of you to give me such a lovely and mystical gem, but I can't accept such a gift from you. Surely, after our… Our conversation yesterday, you'll understand why not."

He glanced down at the letter in her fingers, the untied, red ribbon trailing in the breeze. Perhaps things between them weren't going so very badly after all. "And I say, after our conversation yesterday, I see no other course but to insist you keep my gift."

"But you must take it back!" Cried Marian, dismay clear in her voice. "Didn't you hear anything I told you yesterday?"

"I did lass, and better than you seem to have heard it yourself." Lazily he began to wrap the trailing ends of the scarlet ribbon around her hand, loosely binding the letter to her palm. "You said I'd robbed you of more than your maidenhead. You said you'd never had the chance to be wooed, or cherished in any way."

"Sebastian, please, I didn't mean-"

"Shush, and listen," he chided airily. "I can't make you seventeen again, any more than I can undo the past between us. But I am doing my best to make up the rest to you." Hooking his index finger underneath the ribbon around her hand, he gently pulled her closer to him. He finally had her full attention now, her wanton eyes, rapt on his, as he lowered his voice to a deep sultry, rumble so she'd have to listen even closer.

"Ah am tryin' tae' make ye' see what a rare an' fine lass ye' be, Marian Annika Hawke," he purred, reaching out to cradle her face as she had his, "an' how dear – how very dear – ye' be tae' me."

Lightly, ever so lightly he brushed his lips across her forehead, her fluttering eyelashes brushing his thumb on the hand that still held her cheek. With slow, deliberate finesse he moved lower, searching for her mouth, and as their lips met he caught her contented sigh, a sweet, small breath of anticipation, of pleasure, of surrender, that meant infinitely more to him than even her magic caress. He'd intended this kiss to be swift and chaste, a pledge of his honor to her, but when their lips had met Mari deepened it, and once he'd tasted her passion again he realized how impossible that would be. Her kiss was like no other woman's; warm and eager, and he found himself sinking deeper into the depths of her demands.

He slanted his mouth across hers, seeking more, wrestling her tongue for the lead, and he felt that magic jolt of hers again, a trembling, electric vibration between them that sang through his entire body, singeing his nerve endings with a most delicious heat. The intensity of his desire shocked him. There was nothing chaste, or honorable about how he felt now. Now all he wanted was to push her up against the bare oak, and lay his claim to her forever, here in the open garden, with the rolling thrum of the drums in the square behind them.

But now would be wrong. Irrevocably wrong. In his life he'd been a lot of things, but he wasn't a blind man. She romped with Isabela, yes, but she'd said it herself, sex was a tool she used to judge a persons character nothing more. The problem was Sebastian wanted more. When he took her it would be because she yearned for him body and soul, as much as he did for her. He also couldn't forget how badly he'd used her once before, and with a shuddering effort he broke away, his hand still cradling her cheek. In a moment, he would take her back to the square. In a moment, that other life, the one with Mistress Hawke, and not Mari, would begin again."

"Ah' willnae' give up, Mari," he said, his voice husky with longing. "No matter what happens, Ah' willnae' lose ye' again." Slowly she opened her eyes, dreamy and unfocused as if he'd just woken her from slumber.

"Then you are mad, Sebastian Vael, of Starkhaven's Royal Line," she teased. "And so, I fear, am I."

"Ah, here you are at last, Vael." Knight-Vigilant Cullen frowned as he shifted stiffly in the saddle. "Damned chilly place you picked to go for a tumble with your widow." Impatiently he waited while Sebastian remounted Adonis, and waited, too, for him to laugh, or at least smile.

"You see the jest, Vael, don't you? Cullen prodded.

"Yes, sir, clever indeed," agreed Sebastian, belatedly and without any of the enthusiasm that he knew Cullen expected. But he couldn't bring himself to laugh at Mari's expense, not even for a lame jest made by his commanding officer. Right now it was taking every shred of his self-control not to look back to where he'd left her, at the edge of the square with her guard.

Damnation, how he hated having to lie to her about that "escort," and the more he'd come to care for her, the worse the necessary deception seemed. Of course, the goal had always been to make her trust him, but he'd never dreamed how far awry that trust would go. _Maker, she'd hate him when she found him out._ Dear, sweet, trusting Mari, and inevitably he thought again of how her little sigh, mingled with the mystical jolts of electricity as he kissed her, had been the most memorable – and intoxicating – surrender of his entire life._ But whose surrender, Vael, hmm?_

"Answer me, Vael, or have you lost your hearing, as well as your humor?" Demanded Cullen irritably. "What in the black void, did the chit have to tell you?"

"Ah Knight-Vigilant, forgive my inattention," said Sebastian, scrambling to recover. "It was exactly that question that I was… Um… Considering."

The Knight-Vigilance scowl deepened. "I'm expecting an answer, serha, not an apology."

"Of course, sir," said Sebastian quickly. "My conversation with Mistress Hawke has confirmed that Gabriel Vael was the leader of the rebel party."

"Vael, that bastard brother of yours, signed his name to the letter. What more confirmation do we need?" Demanded Cullen angrily. "I've lost eight, good men I can't replace, Vael, and I need more than a _confirmation _from you." Sebastian stiffened in his saddle, the Knight-Vigilance sarcasm stinging like a lash to his pride.

"And more I have sir, if you'll but listen," he shot back childishly. "The rebels in this city still manage to travel freely between here and Antiva."

"That's impossible," growled Cullen. "We've ten ships bottling the neck of that river up tighter than a cork."

"Ships or not, Knight-Vigilant, the rebels still manage to slip past our guards with such ease that they think nothing of ferrying their own children back and forth." _Their own children, and those of their lovers, as well. _Even as Sebastian spoke, the fleeting memory of Mari's frightened face rose to his conscience. But by now her daughter was safe in Antiva. Neither Mari nor her offspring would be put at risk by what he divulged to the Knight-Vigilant, and maybe other lives would be saved. That was it. he wasn't betraying her confidence. He was simply helping keep her safe, and doing his duty at the same time. "Consider the facts, sir," he continued. "How else could the rebels make such a well-timed attack upon our forces at Sundermount's Cove unless they considered the water theirs?"

"I knew it!" Eagerly Cullen leaned across from his horse toward Sebastian. "The Orleasian guard is worthless – worthless! So tell me, Vael, where do the rebels gather? Where do they hide their boats, their weapons?"

"I haven't learned that yet, sir, but-"

"But you will learn it, Vael," said Cullen, not bothering to hide either his disappointment or his contempt, "and you will learn it soon."

"Yes, sir, although-"

"Nothing more, Knight-Commander. Only answers," said Cullen sharply. "The Hawke woman may be a useful source of information to us and an amusing diversion to you, but you would be well-advised not to confuse the two."

"No, sir, but I-"

"Don't discredit yourself by denying it," snapped the Knight-Vigilant, sweeping his hand dismissively through the air. "Do you think I haven't heard the tales?"

Suddenly Sebastian caught sight of Knight-Corporal Keran on the horse behind Cullen. Though the young man was concentrating hard on the drills before him, a guilty flush had flooded the skin above the collar of his armor, leaving Sebastian in no doubt as to where the Knight-Vigilant was hearing his "tales." Damn the young pup for gossiping like an old spinster, and double damn Cullen for believing such fairytales!

"I deny nothing, sir," he said heatedly, "because I've done nothing wrong."

"Nothing, eh? Then I don't need to remind you that you are a commanding officer in the Divine's most trusted army. Your loyalty to the Maker and your duty come first." The Knight-Vigilant drew back, his expression as cold as the winter day. "Do you understand, Knight-Commander Vael?"

For a moment longer then was wise, Sebastian met the older man's hard eyes, determined to prove to the Knight-Vigilant that he was neither traitor nor coward. He had chosen his allegiance long ago, and turned his back on his family to do it. How could Cullen question his loyalty now? He was the Divine's subject, and always would be. _But what, then, could he ever be to Marian Hawke?_

"Yes, sir," he said coldly, shoving his doubts aside. "I understand."

**7-7-7**

Marian was barely inside the door before Orana came rushing to her. "Oh, Hawke, thank the Gods you've returned!" she said, her pointed ears twitching signaling her distress. "While you were gone, a man came by asking for you."

"A man?" Repeated Marian, still too much under the blissful spell of Sebastian's kiss to think clearly. "What man?

"A rough man, Mari, a mercenary by the look of him," Orana said, crinkling her nose at the memory. "Not a gentlemen at all, and certainly not the kind of man that's come calling on you for some time now." The fuzzy, feverish feeling was beginning to wane, as insubstantial and fleeting as a cloud.

"Did this man leave his name?"

"Nay, Mari, he'd leave nothing but a message, saying that it came from Gabriel Vael himself."

That fuzzy, feverish feeling… What fuzzy, feverish feeling? Now only icy fear gripped her in its merciless talons. "Do you remember his message, Oreo?"

"Oh, aye, Mari. It's not one easily forgotten." Swallowing twice, Orana licked her lips to prepare herself. "He said to tell you Gabe knows everything that you've been doing. He was quite particular about that. 'Gabriel Vael knows everything that you've been doing,' he said, Mari. 'Remember your little daughter.'" Slowly Marian dropped onto the bench she kept nearest the kitchen's back door. As if she'd ever forget Nova, or Gabe's threats concerning her safety or the promises, foolish promises that she'd made to help him.

_As if she'd ever forget Sebastian…_

"He left after that, just walked out the door without so much as a good day. Mari, should I fetch Fenris… He could – he could protect you…. Do you need protecting?" Anxiously the little elf twisted her apron in her hands as she searched Marian's face for reassurance. "You're not in trouble, Mari, are you? With Gabriel, I mean. Cause the man's already on the edge, Mari!"

With a groan, Marian closed her eyes, feeling Sebastian's gift as it imbued her with a shock of its potent lyrium kiss. "Oh, Oreo," she said tiredly. "This time, I'm afraid I am."


	15. Chapter 15

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Fifteen _

Quickly Marian folded the piece of paper over and over into a tiny, flat square before she pressed it into Orana's hand. She had spent all night pondering what to write, yet still her fingers had trembled as she held the quill. "Give this either to Gabriel, or the other man, the one who came here yesterday," she said, holding her hand over Orana's. "One of them will likely be at the market this morning."

Worriedly Orana shook her head while she nibbled her lower lip. "I don't like this, Marian," she whispered. "It's not that I'm not willing to help you – I am of course – but creeping about like this just doesn't seem right."

"I know Oreo, and I wouldn't ask you if there were any other way." Marian said on a sigh. "But the Templar sentries will insist on accompanying me if I try to go myself, and for Gabe's sake, I can't risk it."

"Oh, Mari." The little elf stared woefully at the message in her hand, her usual bravado replaced by cold fear.

"Oreo, look at me." Marian cooed, as she grabbed the elf's balled fists, tightly wrapped around the letter. "I wouldn't send you on this errand if I thought even a single strand of hair on your head was at risk. Even if the Templars somehow take the message from you, it won't mean anything to them." Nothing to them, thought Marian, but everything to her. All night she'd lain awake, only to come up with the two simple words of the message: _I remember. _Strange to think how many things those words could mean. If the note fell into Gabe's hands, he would believe she'd taken his warning to heart. She remembered her promise to help him; she remembered all that he had done for her in the past, she remembered, most of all, that her daughter's safety depended on the rebels' success.

But to Marian herself, the concise little message meant so much more. She remembered the unmistakable tenderness in Sebastian's eyes when he'd explained how he wished to protect her. She remembered how he'd listened to her in the Chantry and, better yet, how he'd heard every word in a way she hadn't even imagined herself. She remembered his gift and the pledge that had come with it and how he refused to take any of it back, and she remembered, too, how this morning she'd tucked the cobalt blue, teardrop into the bodice of her robe for good luck. But most of all she remembered the way she'd felt when they'd kissed, the heady sweetness of it mingled with fierce passion that had made her whole body sing.

_I remember_. Once before, long ago, she'd believed no other man could be like Sebastian Vael. Now she was beginning to believe it again. But was she remembering everything the way she should, or only as she longed for it to be?

"Is there any other message, Mari?" asked Orana as she looped her arm through her market basket. "If I see Gabriel, that is, and not that foul merc."

"If you see Gabe, tell him to take care, and watch after himself." She said softly, thinking of how Gabriel seemed so determined to risk his life again and again. "There are many who wish him harm, though I expect he knows that already. And one other thing, too, Oreo." Marian's fingers caressed her locket. "Please ask him to tell Nova that I miss her and love her very much," she said wistfully, "and that I'll come for her the first minute I can."

"About time, too. I know when you took her to Rana's, you thought it would only be for a few days, and here it is just shy of a full month!"

"Twenty-three days," said Marian sadly. "That is all, though I swear it seems like ten times that."

"Surely by Solstice," said Orana, clucking her tongue in sympathy. "Surely we'll have your sweet miniature, home by then."

"I don't know, Oreo," said Marian, thinking of all the complications that lay behind such a simple wish. "May the Gods help me, I just don't know."

It wasn't until later, when Marian was able to retreat to her own rooms upstairs, that she felt the prickle of tears well up. She had managed to fly from the Rose without being noticed, late the night before - while she pondered her letter - to get the little blue and white tea set delivered. Xenon's urchin had brought it to her early this morning, before the sun had even had a chance to begin its rise. She had arranged the little set on a toy table she'd taken from Nova's room, placing it before the fire as she imagined her daughter would do herself. Seeing it there, Marian could almost hear her daughter's serious little voice as she offered tea to all her stuffed animals. But suddenly she could hear another voice there beside her daughter's, a deep male voice, warm and kind and tinged with the elegance of Starkhaven. For the first time, she allowed herself to picture Sebastian crouched down beside his daughter, their two heads, with the same thick, sorrel hair, bending over the tiny tea set, Sebastian somehow holding the tiny cup in his hand like a giant's. Father and daughter, their relationship undeniable; Marian had worked so hard to keep them apart, yet now that she'd imagined the unimaginable, she kept returning to the image again and again, as unable to turn away from its beckoning lure as a dwarve from his ale.

Father and daughter and mother, too, a family with love at its center and not deceit and lies, a chance to begin her life all over again.

Yet as tempting as it was to dream, she knew it was just that, a maple-sweet, idle dream that could never become reality, and alone in her cold quarters she struggled to fight back the tears stinging her eyes. Weeping could change nothing, she told herself fiercely as she balled her hands into tight fists in her lap, digging her nails into her palms to keep the tears back. Better to think of a way to solve her own troubles than to long for a man to do it for her. Better still to think of a way to bring Nova safely home than to sit here and cry by herself.

As she turned to wipe her hand across her eyes, she noticed the flat package halfway under her bed where it had slid across from the door. This time she recognized the hand that had written her name across the front. This time, too, she didn't hesitate to open the slender package, her heart racing as she unfolded the stiff paper. To her disappointment, no note slipped free, but she gasped when she unwrapped the second sheet of paper and saw the gloves that lay inside. Pale, yellow Dathrasi leather, the color of new butter and just as soft, with a delicate scroll of slightly darker silk embroidered around the cuff; she'd had no idea that Par Vollen leather could be purchased in a Kirkwall shop, or that the Qunari would ever craft such delicate works. Clearly they were intended for the finest of ladies, the kind who never raised an unblemished finger for any sort of labor, and wryly Marian looked down at her own hands, red and chapped from the extra work she'd undertaken these last few weeks, with deep seated calluses from all the years she'd wielded her staff.

Still the gloves looked to be the right size, and gingerly she slipped one hand inside. Her fingertips touched something that rustled, and with a little frown she withdrew a piece of paper cut into a lopsided heart. Across it in thick, sweeping letters was a single sentence: _You hold my heart in your hand. _There was no signature, not that Marian needed one as she pictured Sebastian struggling first to cut the heart freehand and then to tuck it inside the narrow gloves. As beautiful and foreign as the gloves were, it was that awkward little heart that touched her the most, and made her smile as a fool would.

He was trying to woo her. No man bent on seduction alone would ever have tipped his card hand so openly with that misshapen heart. Her smile widened with pure pleasure, and even alone as she was, she blushed like a maniac as she ran a finger lightly across the heart. She wished she could see him, now, to let him know how much this gift had pleased her. He could be anywhere in the city this afternoon, but he most certainly wouldn't be found in her room. Swiftly, before she could change her mind, she reached for her cloak, the golden one she saved for special occasions. Jamming her hands into the wool-lined pockets of the extravagant cloak for extra warmth the thin gloves wouldn't offer, and to protect the precious paper heart tucked inside, she headed down the stairs to the front door. She told herself she'd walk to meet Orana, who still hadn't returned from the market, but secretly she hoped to cross paths with a certain Templar commander, as well.

The afternoon was chilly and grey, and the snow that remained in the streets was dingy with trampled mud. Though the Templars had not even been here a month, their mark was everywhere. Every third house was shuttered and closed or simply abandoned when their owners fled. These empty houses had become the first targets of the soldiers in their endless search for firewood, and fences had been ripped up, orchards and garden trees cut down. Even the shutters themselves were ripped from their hinges, and some of the more humble houses in lowtown had even had their wood siding pried and peeled away, leaving the beams beneath exposed to the wind and snow. Ships trapped in the docks harbor stood idle and empty, with neither destinations nor crews. Their cargo abandoned, the contents either rotting, or Templar property now.

All this Marian knew, and it sickened her deeply to see her city dying by degrees a little more each day. And yet, though nothing had changed for the better in the town, this afternoon she could barely keep the smile from her face as she walked toward the market. Even the sentry who walked behind her, a Templar shadow she'd never lose, failed to dampen her spirits today.

She soon spotted Orana, trudging down the sidewalk with a boy following behind her to carry her purchases, and Marian quickened her steps to meet her. "Looks like you had good luck, Orana," she said, glancing at the packages in the boy's arms and the basket looped over the elf's. "Did you find everything you sought?"

"Nay, Mari, I didn't," Orana said sourly. "So late in the day, there's nothing left but trash, and it's priced so high you'd think the moldiest turnip is pure gold. I nearly came to tears, thinking of the sorry table we'll be setting at the Rose now. It's all the fault of the Templars, of course, may the dear Gods rot them with blight sickness."

"But you must have seen some friends or acquaintances there," Marian prompted carefully, all too aware of both the sentry behind her and the boy with the market basket. "Surely, Oreo, you found time for a moment or two of conversation?"

"Not the type you'd speak of openly, Mari." The little elf nodded and winked so boldly that Marian almost winced. "But I did see a certain brown-haired fella that grows more and more into the image of his father each day."

"Dallas?" Marian asked, shocked. She'd never have believed that Gabriel let the boy from his sight.

"Aye, one in the same." Orana nodded again as they began to walk slowly side by side. "Paid his good day's to me as his poor mama would've wished, may she rest with the Gods. But, oh, he's so thin and ragged Mari! I was tempted to bring him along with me for supper. Like one of your wretched strays, except with the fella it would be merciful charity."

"I don't believe his father would wish him to accept your charity, no matter how kindly meant."

Orana sighed heavily. "Nay, I don't believe his father would," she agreed, with pointed emphasis that stopped short of pronouncing the Vael name, but just barely. "He's a good, obedient fella, even though he looks like some wild, rough creature now. He'll do as his father tells him." Orana nodded calmly, and Marian relaxed. Dallas would do whatever Gabe told him to, including carrying her message. These days, it was probably the least Gabriel was expecting of him, and once more she murmured a prayer to keep the boy safe. "And I'll tell you one other thing about the boy, Mari," Orana continued, warming to her subject. "He's quite taken with your Nova, and always has been. Oh, I know they're only babes, but mark what I say – in time you'll have a match there, see if you don't."

"Oh, hush Oreo, don't be foolish," scolded Marian uncomfortably, not wishing to discuss exactly how close Dallas Vael was to her daughter. "Nova is only eleven years old, and I won't have you or anyone else marrying her off. Besides, I-"

"Oh, Mari, will you look at those haughty Templar bastards!" Glaring fiercely, Orana charged to the edge of the sidewalk, brandishing her basket before her at the parade of Templar soldiers that had just marched around the corner. "Look at them strutting like peacocks, so proud, like the bullying, empty headed sheep that they are!"

Marian grabbed the elf's arm, surprised by the other women's outburst. "Orana, please! I won't have you behaving like this!"

"Then scold them, Hawke, not me!" Said Orana furiously, and to Marian's dismay the bitter elf spat into the street at the soldiers' feet. "Wicked, filthy excuses for men! Why, I'd rather-"

"That is enough, Orana!" Ordered Marian sharply. "Consider the shame you're brining to me and the Rose, let alone yourself! Do you wish us all to suffer because you can't hold your tongue, in that hot head of yours?"

"Aren't we all shamed already, Hawke, having such filth living beneath our roof," declared Orana, the furious heat dripping from her words. "I never thought I'd live-"

"I told you, Orana," said Marian, her voice laced with warning, "that is quite enough."

And though Orana jerked her arm free from Marian's hand, the little elf finally seemed to hear her warning. "Very well, _Mistress_." She said, making Marian wince at the formal title. "If that is what you wish." Orana finished, almond eyes still blazing with hatred for the Templars.

"It's not what I wish, Oreo," said Marian vehemently as she tucked her hand back into the pocket of her cloak. "It's how it is, and how it must be."

"Gabriel doesn't think so," blurted out Orana hotly. "He told me to keep a sharp eye on the soldiers in our house, and tell him what I see. Gabriel says-"

"Since when do you have such conversations with Gabriel Vael?" demanded Marian, not caring if the sentry behind her heard. Had Gabriel set Orana to spy on her now, while she was to be spying on Sebastian? "I won't have you gossiping when you're meant to be working."

Orana's lip quivered as she swallowed back her retort. "Very well, _mistress,_" she said again. "Very well."

_Fantastic!_ Marian thought, another friend bitter at her, exactly what she needed. Sighing she shifted her gaze back to the parading soldiers. Inside the glove she touched the heart shaped note, and as she did her own heart jumped. The men and women now marching before her and Orana wore the brightly polished armor of Sebastian's regiment, and almost before she realized it, he was there, too, on his black stallion, with the young corporal riding beside him. His face was stern, a studied, official mask covering his emotions and his thoughts.

This time when he spotted her among the others on the sidewalk, there was no special smile, no teasing greeting, as there had been before. But still she knew the exact moment when their gazes met, and felt the heat of that single shared look across the wide space that separated them. Without thinking, she drew her hand from her pocket and raised it, not so much to wave but to reach out to him, the pale yellow glove like a small banner in the cheerless street. His gaze shifted briefly to her hand, then back to her face, and the merest hint of a smile flickered across his mouth and eyes. Only a hint, but it was enough to make Marian's mouth go dry and her heart race.

_Later_, she thought as anticipation soared wildly in her breast, _later I will see him alone. Later he will come to me… _Unconsciously she leaned forward as he rode down the street, unwilling to let him go from her sight. But as she did, Orana turned and blocked her view. Marian sighed impatiently and raised her head, intent on seeing Sebastian. But already he was gone, around the corner and from her view, and she sighed again, this time with disappointment. Then, too late, she saw the look on Orana's face before her. The anger was still there, the bitterness and the resentment toward the Templars undisguised on her sharp, exotic features. But now there was suspicion mingled there, as well, suspicion that Marian recognized and understood with a swift, sickening sense of foreboding.

Quickly she lowered her hand in the yellow glove and shoved it in her pocket. "Come along. Orana," she said curtly. "We've lingered here long enough." But as much as Marian wanted to, she couldn't make herself meet the other woman's eye.

**7-7-7**

Once more Sebastian touched the dagger at his waist, and then cursed his own uneasiness. Damnation, where was Marian? He could just hear her voice from the hall upstairs, trying to soothe an irritated guest complaining about the tavern's shortage of firewood. Why, in the Black Void, didn't the fool take her word for it? Sebastian muttered an oath directed to all the whining old men in the world and touched his dagger again. If she didn't come soon, he'd have to leave without seeing her. He couldn't linger in this hallway all night, especially not when Keran would soon be waiting for him below.

There! There were her footsteps, coming toward him at last. Sebastian sank into the shadows of the stairwell. He didn't intend to frighten her, but he didn't wish to announce his presence to the entire inn, either. She was on the stairs now, the ring of keys at her hip jingling a merry tune as she hurried down the steps.

"Mari," he called softly. "Mari, lass, here." Abruptly she stopped, listening, one foot poised above the step. Here between the two floors, the stairway bent and turned at a landing lit by day by a tall arched window. But now, at night, the only light came from the new crescent moon far above and the magically, lit lamp in the front hall below, washing her slim figure in silvery twilight. She was dressed simply in a thin, slip of a robe with an apron around her waist and slippers on her feet where stilettos usually were, and she'd never looked more appealing to him. But then, he thought wryly, each time he saw her, no matter what she wore, he felt the same."Mari," he said again. "Don't look so startled, lass. Who else do you think it would be?"

She laughed nervously, her hand fluttering over her breast. "Of course I'm startled, Sebastian," she said, not really answering his question. "Why shouldn't I be, when my city is at war and my house is full of strange soldiers?"

"This one won't harm you," he said reaching out to draw her with him into the shadows of the corner. "I will promise you that."

"Will you, now?" She looped her fingers into his and let him pull her another step closer, but still he watched her glance over her shoulder to see if they were overheard. "Once again, I have only your word on it, you see."

"My word is all I have to give you now," he said softly. "A trustworthy offering, I'm told, though not perhaps, as attractive as those yellow gloves." He saw how she laughed in spite of herself.

"The gloves? They're fine indeed, of course, and I thank you for them. But I liked the heart even better."

"You did?" he asked, genuinely surprised, but pleased, too. The heart had been a gamble. He'd worried that she'd dismiss it as foolish or corny. "Then you must have found the sentiment to your taste, as well." He slid his arm around her waist, gently pulling her close against his chest. But instead of curving against him the way he'd hoped, she stiffened in his embrace.

"Not here, Sebastian," she whispered urgently, looking past him to the stairs. "Someone could come and find us at any minute."

"Someone could, and eventually someone will," he whispered, turning so that she was against the wall and he was shielding her with his body. How could she wave to him in the street, before his regiment and half the city, but turn skittish when they were alone? "But not now, Marian, and not yet. All I need is a moment to talk."

"Sebastian, you don't understand, do you?" She searched his face in the twilight, her mouth pinched with anxiety. "You never will, will you?"

"Hush, Mari," he chided softly, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "I understand a great deal more than you seem willing to credit me."

**7-7-7**

She looked down, away from the powerful lure of his gaze. All day long she'd been imagining this moment when she'd be alone with him again, but now that he was here, really here with her, she didn't know what to say or do next. Against her will, the image of Sebastian and Nova together rose fresh in her mind, the sound of their mingled laughter echoing in her ears, all of it so heartbreakingly vivid that she wanted to weep all over again. How had it happened that the people she'd always trusted no longer trusted her, while the only man who seemed to care for her was the one she dared not trust in return?

"How can you understand when I don't understand myself? She asked dolefully, resting her hands on his chest. "How can you, when everything in my life – everything – seems turned upside down?" 

"Then tell me, Mari, and I'll try-"

"No!" she cried softly. "I don't want to talk anymore. What I want – What I want – Oh Gods." She growled. Swiftly, before the moment passed and she lost her courage, she slipped her hands around his neck, feathering them into the soft hair at his nape and drew his face down to hers, kissing him with all the heat from her pent up frustrations, her glaring uncertainty's and the lust she was no longer able to deny. She kissed him hungrily, and with a desperation that was impossible to hide. Words had failed her up to now; words had tripped, caught and snared her in ways she'd never dreamed of. This seemed her final hope, to lose herself in wordless emotions and find herself in the solace that only Sebastian could offer. No matter how much she tried to deny it, the bond between them was there, and always had been.

Parting her lips, she joined with him more completely, and with a low rumbling growl in his throat he deepened the kiss, making her shiver as his hands slid along her back to curve her into his body. This was no gentle pledge, no promise; this was passion, raw and powerful, and she let herself be carried away on its current. His hands slid lower, from her waist to her hips, and through the thin fabric of her robe she could feel the heat of his caress. She dug her fingers more aggressively into the thick waves of his hair, wrapping the strands in her fist, pulling him closer, and she felt the rough ridge of the paneling behind her as he pressed her against the wall._ The paneling on the wall_, thought some tiny, hazy part of her consciousness, the same paneling, newly painted beige last autumn, that lined the stairway and the landing where one could stand and see both the center entry hall below and the hall to the guests' quarters above.

_See, or be seen…_

With a desperate whimper, Marian pulled free, her fingers releasing his hair to flutter to her mouth, the same mouth and lips that had betrayed her with such wanton ease. Over and over she'd told him how much her good name mattered, and here she'd gone and behaved like some bold, whore. "Sebastian," she breathed, shaking fingers caressing his well-kissed lips. "What you must think of me now. If anyone had come, if anyone had seen us – I've fired my staff for less!"

His breathing ragged, and eyes dark with interrupted desire, Sebastian reached for her again, before he spoke. "How could I ever think bad about you, sweet, especially for something as near to the Maker's side as that kiss?"

But Marian vigorously shook her head, backing away from him, toward the stairs. "I can't stay, I must go," she said rapidly, unable to meet his gaze as she turned away. "I've much to do, an Inn to run."

"Damnation, Mari!" he growled. "The only reason I waited for you here was to say goodbye!"

She froze, her hand gripping the railing. "Goodbye?" she echoed faintly, the memory of how he'd left her before rising. He was leaving; she'd known he would. "You're leaving Kirkwall?"

"For only a day or two, that's all. Three at the most." He reached for her hand again, this time she let him take it. But much to her relief and dismay he didn't try to kiss her again. He wasn't lying then; he hadn't come to her for that.

"Only a day?" Troubled, she searched his face for the truth. "Where could you go for only a day? And why come to tell me farewell unless you fear you may not return?"

"Because, you know, I might not. It's always a possibility with soldiers, particularly those serving the Maker in this war." He smiled crookedly, an attempt to sooth her fears, but instead it injected a massive dose of dread into her heart.

"Then your going after Gabriel." She spoke softly, the grim certainty dampening the heat she felt. "That's it, isn't it? And you won't be returning until he's dead, or in shackles?"

"Don't ask me about my brother, Mari," he said so quietly she could barely make out his words, his finger tightening around hers, "and in return I'll ask no questions of you." Nodding silently, Marian realized the enormity of what he'd just done for her. He had put her first, before his orders, his Knight-Vigilant, even his Divine. She'd heard the rumors about what Gabriel and his men had been doing; stealing supplies from the Templars, destroying and vandalizing what they couldn't steal, luring young soldiers into deserting and joining them. Of course the Elite couldn't tolerate such losses any longer, and Sebastian would be the natural one to stop it. But still the notion of two brothers so at risk from one another frightened and angered her more than she wished to admit to Sebastian.

Staring down at their linked hands, she slowly lifted his to her lips. "I know a soldiers life is always forfeit, but may I ask you to take care?" she asked, brushing her whispered words across the back of his hand. "If I ask that of you, Sebastian, for my sake will you listen?"

The front door opened, and the hallway filled with the sounds of men's voices, laughter and heavy boots stamping off the snow. Yet, though they both knew he must, Sebastian didn't draw away from Mari; nor did she release his hand as they stood there in the twilight.

"Yes, Mari, I will," he said hoarsely. "For you, sweet lass, I would do anything." Through the haze of the sharp tears that had welled in her eyes, Marian smiled, and for the first time she believed him.

**7-7-7**

Sebastian lowered his hand, and at his signal the men around him dropped wearily to the sandy ground, shielding themselves as best they could behind the rocks and waving grasses. The night wind from the sea was unrelenting, slicing cruelly through the men's heavy armor to settle the damp cold in their blood and bones. After the long trek across the land, Sebastian knew that what they needed most was a warm fire and hot drink, but he didn't wish to warn the rebels, not when they were this close.

At least he hoped they were close. He'd come to the Wounded Coast depending on a mixture of what he knew and what he guessed, with a large amount of intuition thrown in for good measure. The men had been carefully chosen, all battle-seasoned veterans who had been with Sebastian since his first post in Tevinter, and they had been picked not only for their skill with a bow and blades, but for their silence, as well. For Sebastian's plan to work, all the elaborate lines of gossip and spying that ran like an underground stream through the occupied city would have to carry the same word: that Knight-Commander Vael had left Kirkwall for the northern beaches, with a small party of soldiers, their goal to capture the rebels who had been attacking the outlying Templar posts.

Like all the best lies, the story he'd spread in the city was largely true. Sebastian's orders were to capture the rebels and their leaders. But instead of going north, where the rebels had always struck before and where he'd been ordered to go by Knight-Vigilant Cullen, Sebastian had circled around the city to head toward the most southwestern point on the Coast, to a place called Deadman's Cove. He could have spent weeks trying to predict where the rebels would strike next, but he was willing to gamble his career that this was where they gathered first.

And this time his risky, gamble had paid off. His men had already found the boats, weapons, and stores of potions hidden in the cave, exactly where he'd known they'd be. Later they would burn the boats, but for now he'd ordered everything left as it was, making sure his men swept their tracks from the sand before they hid on either side of the steep path to the beach, ready to ambush the rebels.

With a keen eye Sebastian studied the rocky hillside and the sweep of beach below. How many years had passed since he was here last? So little had changed that he couldn't be certain.

So little, and yet so much…

_It's a pirate cave," said Gabriel with all the authority of his twelve years. "They'd bring their gold an' plunder here tae' hide it from the guard, mercs an' other pirates."_

_Sebastian peered through the weeds into the narrow entrance. Though he was three years younger, he knew better than to believe everything his brother told him, even about something as exciting as a pirate lair. "Ah' donnae' know, Gabe, pa said grandpappy was a smuggler, nate' a pirate. That's nah' the same thing."_

_Gabriel frowned scornfully. "Well what else would pa say about his own pappy? Besides, it wasnae't Grandpappy. It was Grandmammy, too, an' her first husband. He was the pirate king."_

"_Grandmammy?" When Sebastian thought of his Grandmammy, he could only dimly recall an old lady in a plain, white gown. Certainly she couldn't have been a pirate queen. "Ye're daft, Gabe. Why would Grandmammy hide her fortune in a little cove so far from Starkhaven? Likely all that's in that cave are dead crabs an' bats. The same bats that are in yer' head."_

"_Are nate'." Stubbornly Gabriel raised his chin, "Ah' bet ye're just scared, Seb. Same as our sisters. Ye're just tae' scared tae' go inside."_

"_Am nate'." Before he could think too much about it, Sebastian shoved aside the dead weeds and plunged into the darkness of the cave. After the warmth of the summer sun, the sand was cold beneath his bare feet, the air around him chill and damp enough for him to imagine all sorts of evil things in the shadows beyond the daylight. Something brushed against his side, and he gasped and struggled to free himself, his arms flailing wildly into sticky cobwebs._

"_Quit it, Sebastian," cried Gabriel, "else ye'll murder me!" There was a bright little flash of sparks as Gabe lit the candle in the lantern they'd brought, and in its comforting glow Sebastian felt his racing heart begin to slow._

"_Likely we're the first two tae' be in here since the pirates left," he said striving to make his voice even in front of his older brother. "That is, if there were any pirates."_

"_Oh, aye, there were, Seb, nae' mistake." Gabriel's face was wolfish in the lantern's light. "Same ones as was hung, out on the Deadman's Point, their bodies left tae' rot from the gallows for all the terrible deeds they'd done, torturing and murdering an' such."_

_In spite of his wish to be brave, Sebastian edged closer to the lantern and his brother's side. "Do ye' think there's any treasure left inside?"_

"_That's why we're here, is it nae,' dummy?" said Gabriel, holding out his hand. "Now swear, whatever we find we'll split even, Sebastian, on account o' being Vaels an' kin an' all. Swear we'll always be mates, an' that ye'll' never slit mah' throat or try other base piratical acts on account o' the gold." _

_Sebastian clasped his brother's hand. "Ah' swear tae' it Gabe. Ah' swear tae' it we'll be mates forever."_

But forever had come to an end, thought Sebastian grimly, and a great deal sooner than either of them ever expected. He looked again to the mouth of the cave, trying to see it as a soldier and not as a lad. Gabriel couldn't have chosen a better spot to hide his boats, and only Sebastian could have found it. Had his brother counted on that long-ago oath to protect him here, as well?

Bitterly Sebastian muttered a curse to himself. What would happen here tonight was Gabriel's decision, not his. He couldn't forget that.

Damnation, but it was cold. Irresistibly his mind wandered to the warmth he'd found last night in Mari's kiss, and he thought, too, of how her eyes had grown too bright with tears when he'd told her goodbye. Tears for him. No wonder he'd been unable to tell her the same tale he'd so carefully spun throughout the rest of the city. He never wanted to tell her anything but the truth again.

And what exactly was that truth? That he cared for her, that he wanted to be with her, that he loved her? Though there had been plenty of women in his life, he'd never loved any of them, but then, Marian Hawke wasn't like the others, she was special, and with each day it was becoming harder and harder to imagine his life without her in it, war or no war.

He glanced up at the moon, gauging the time, and tugged his helm down lower on his head. If Gabe and his rebels were planning a raid tonight, they'd have to gather soon, or the night would be gone.

"Look, commander, there!" The nearest man – Knight-Captain Hunter, guessed Sebastian – pointed up the rocky path from the beach. "That has to be them, sir, I'd stake my life on it!"

Five dark shadows bobbed across the open field and in and out of the scrubby low bushes. Gradually, as the shadows drew closer, their shapes sharpened into a small group of men, hurrying with their shoulders hunched against the wind and their bows and staves slung carelessly across their backs. Sebastian smiled at that; if his men could take the mages and mage sympathizers by such complete surprise, then perhaps they could capture the rebels without any casualties on either side.

"Hold your fire, and let them come to us." He whispered sharply, his voice rough with the cold. "Don't give the bastards a chance to scatter and run." A low murmur of agreement rumbled through his men, and all around him Sebastian could hear the little cracks and squeaks of men finally strumming their bows. As cold and tired as they were, Sebastian knew the chance to avenge their fallen comrades would add a raw intensity to their fighting. "Steady, lads, steady." He cautioned, not daring to say more and risk having the rebels overhear. "Steady, now."

The rebels were almost upon them now, their hats pulled forward and their heads bent so low into the wind that they'd never see the Elite until they were square in the middle of the ambush. One man was singing – droning, really – a low, sorrowful tune that matched the rhythm of their muffled footsteps.

_Steady, steady, _he repeated silently, praying that none of his men would jump up too soon. His heart was pounding with anticipation, his fingers tight on both an arrow's fletching and his bowstring. Beneath the hats, which one was his brother Gabriel?

_Steady now…_

The second man in the ragged line caught his boot on a piece of driftwood and stumbled in the sand. His staff swinging forward heavily, off his shoulder, and as he swore and grabbed for it, he suddenly noticed the white, bone armored Templars in the rocks above him. He gasped and stammered – the only blundering warning he could muster.

Sebastian scrambled to his feet, high on a massive rock. "In the name of Divine Justinia V," he roared, "The Maker, demands your surrender!" What happened next was a blur of white uniforms and horned helms rushing down the grey rocks and over the golden sand as they launched silencing waves to dim the magic energy that swirled around them. A blur of the rebels struggling vainly to reach for their daggers, to ready their staves, or swing their bows like clubs before they were forced to surrender. The moonlight shifting through the clouds glinted off a polished dagger here, a torn shirt there, a terrified man's open mouth as he begged for mercy.

Yet in one split second before Sebastian jumped down from the rock to join the others, a movement in the distance, across the field, caught his eye. Another man, a latecomer, scurrying from the shelter of each bush to scrubby tree as he fled the same fate as his friends.

"Halt, in the name of Divine Justinia V!" roared Sebastian, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Halt now, you damned rebel coward!" Still the man ran, and Sebastian raised his bow. His orders were to take all rebels alive, but he meant to bring them, every last one of them, to Knight-Vigilant Cullen, and he'd be damned if he'd let this last coward slip through his fingers now. With that as his only thought, he zeroed in on the running figure at the end of the arrowhead and let it fly, the bowstring twanging off his armored forearm.

"Top shooting, sir," said Hunter breathlessly as he climbed up on the rock beside Sebastian. "Especially fine, sir, since the others are saying that last bastard was their leader, the one shaming your family's good name by turning rebel against the Chantry."

Without seeing, Sebastian stared silently through the smoky night.

"_Ah' swear tae' it, Gabe. Ah' swear tae' it we'll be mates forever…"_

Swiftly he turned on his heel. "Send two men to find the body," he said, wondering if anyone else noticed how hollow and empty his voice had become. "Knight-Vigilant Cullen will want it as proof." 


	16. Chapter 16

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Sixteen _

_**This Chapter is Rated M kids, be warned.**_

It was nearly midnight by the time Sebastian returned to the Rose. Returning to the city, reporting to Knight-Vigilant Cullen, seeing the prisoners quartered in the gallows – all of this had taken time. But what had cost him most was the search for Gabriel's body. He'd watched in silent agony while his men scoured the field where Gabe should have fallen, and somehow managed to keep his expression emotionless when they returned empty-handed. Not that he believed Gabe had escaped – he knew his arrow had found its mark – but the image of his brother dying alone and untended like a wild animal beneath some bush or empty barn haunted him all through Cullen's congratulations and the rejoicing of his regiment. He'd saved both his career and his reputation as a brilliant officer, but the price had been higher than he could ever have guessed.

Now all he wanted was to be alone. Wearily he dragged himself up the stairs, tired in body but exhausted in his soul. He wondered if Keran could find him a bottle of ale somewhere in the house at this hour; he had vows, yes, but tonight the thought of drinking himself into a senseless stupor without guilt, or conscience, or grief seemed the best course before him.

His fingers still stiff from the cold, he fumbled with the key to his chamber. A pale light glowed from beneath the door and he frowned, thinking of the waste of wood to keep a fire blazing away while he was out. Sometimes Keran's concern for his welfare went beyond common reason, and with his mood even blacker, he threw open the door.

Immediately he halted his steps. His heart pounded hard in his chest, shock knocking the air from his lungs as he came face to face with the biggest wolf he'd ever seen in his life, sitting before the hearth it's sleek, black coat glimmering in the fire's light. It sat with the poised grace of a regal statue, its long tail wrapped neatly around its lithe legs. But by the way it's eyes moved over Sebastian in a hungry appraisal, it was completely clear the animal was no art piece he'd simply missed these last few weeks.

"Easy boy." Sebastian whispered, not wanting to agitate the beast as he slowly raised an arm toward his bow. He didn't have a clue how it got in here, and it seemed a shame to put such an extraordinary animal down, but a wild wolf was more dangerous than any man could ever wish to be. His choices in the matter were rather limited. But as he trained his bow on the midnight wolf, it stood with a calm grace, a sense of magic swirled the air. Sebastian's normally steady hands turned into over cooked spaghetti of their own accord. His bow clattered to the floor like a stone, as the great beast sauntered to him with a cocky hitch to its precise steps. It was then, as the animal circled him, that he truly noticed its eyes, not the hunger behind them, but the color, the eerie supernatural glow that radiated from them.

"Mari?" he questioned, and was greeted with a lopsided attempt, at what he thought was a grin, though it looked more like a snarl, as her lips parted to reveal rows of sharp, jagged teeth. "Mari, what in the Black Void are you doing here?" he asked wearily, not truly shocked by her form. Marian, he knew, was after all, a very special woman. "Where is Keran?"

She snorted at him, a sound so achingly close to a human's scoff, he could almost picture her in front of him folding her toned arms over her chest, as she rolled her eyes in disapproval of his easy dismissal of her. The trust she was putting into him by showing him yet another of her cards, wasn't lost on Sebastian and it was an honor. He'd tell her so, but he was tired, bitter and sore physically and mentally, and it fouled the moment for him.

In the blink of an eye, every trace of the sleek animal was gone, leaving her standing tall in front of him, and utterly naked. _Maker_! Sebastian's mouth went dry, like this she looked as he'd pictured her deity of sex would… Only far, far better! With a single glimpse of her pert breasts, and the pearls of her budding, pink nipples his woes droned into white noise.

"I sent him to his bed hours ago. There didn't seem any reason for both of us to wait for you." She said her voice husky, perhaps from the change? Answering a question he'd long since forgotten he'd even asked.

Clearing his throat, and forcing himself to lift his wandering gaze from her naked flesh he tried to steady his voice. If she wanted to pretend she wasn't stark nude before him, then he wasn't about to act like a horny school lad, with his first ever boner. He could act as if this was a normal, everyday occurrence, though there wasn't a single stitch of normal about any of this.

"Indeed." Was all he managed, but it was steady, which was what mattered. And strangely enough, he found himself wondering if she realized that Keran usually slept in here with him, rolled up in a blanket on the floor at the foot of his bed. Trust Keran not to tell her himself, fool boy always seemed twisted with the pretty Hawke around; Maker only knew where he'd gone instead for the night. "It must be long past time for you to be safe in your own bed, as well."

**7-7-7**

"Most likely it is. Or was, rather," she said, a little bitter that as she stood naked before him, all he seemed to want to do was get rid of her. Reaching for the emerald night robe she'd come here in, she wrapped it around her body to protect herself from the cold night's air and Sebastian's lazy frown and seemingly uninterested glances. "I overheard some of the other Templars saying you'd returned to Kirkwall, and I knew you wouldn't be long, so I decided I'd stay awake to welcome you home."

His frown deepened as he tossed his helm onto his luggage chest. "I've hardly earned a hero's welcome."

"That wasn't what I'd meant." She swallowed, tying the robe tight around her waist, realizing from his hostility that she'd have to tread most carefully. This wasn't going the way she'd planned, - go to Sebastian's room, check, get naked, check, yell SURPRISE, double check and jump his bones... Well, that one was a work in progress. – She had a plan B though, and had come too far to retreat now; nor did she wish to. "Though I overheard from the others that you were – were successful in your campaign."

"So I'm told, yes, I was." She watched as he tore at the leather trappings binding his armor. "Most successful indeed."

She nodded, striving to understand. "Then you did find Gabriel." She breathed, her heart breaking.

His expression grew darker still. "Damn it, Mari, I don't-"

"No, Sebastian, please, don't be cross with me, but don't coddle me, either!" she muttered unhappily. "I've tried to be truthful with you, and all I ask is the same in return. I know before you couldn't tell me about Gabe because of your orders, but now, surely there's no harm that can come of it."

He stood very still, the lines of weariness and sorrow etched deeper into his face by the shadows of the firelight. "Why should you care so much, Mari?" he demanded. "What are my brother, and his misfortune to you?"

Marian bulked, her chin raising a measure to meet his fiery gaze. This night was not going well at all. Gods she was a fool! "Gabriel Vael is my friend, a good friend, too, as are all the others of his family," she growled defensively. "That includes you, as well, if you can bear it, that is."

**7-7-7**

He turned away, to hang his chest plate on the coat hanger, but more to avoid letting her read the feelings he knew were written so large across his face. A friend – that was all his brother was to her. _Only a friend_. Maker, how desperately he wanted to believe it! "We captured six men – my brother's fellow rogues – at a cave near the water, and destroyed the boats that they had hidden there," he said. "But though all of them say that Gabriel was their leader, he was not among those taken." Still he kept his back to her. "It's only a matter of time, of course," he continued. "I mean to return at dawn and search every house and barn in the area until I find him."

"Of course," she mumbled, bitterness laced in her words. "Your duty and your orders demand that you do nothing less." He couldn't make himself meet her eyes. She had asked for the truth, and he had given it to her. But not all of it; miserably he knew he was too much the coward to confess everything that he had done, and he despised the weakness in himself.

"Were there – were any boys captured, as well?" she asked, her voice a worried whisper. "Was there any sign of Gabriel's son Dallas?"

"I'm not in the habit of bringing war down upon boys, or women," said Sebastian sharply as he turned to face her. "I thought, ma'am, you held a higher regard for me than that."

He watched her eyes narrow before she spoke, "and I, sir, thought the same of you for me," her retort was as clipped and icy as he'd expected. "All I asked was if you'd _**seen**_Gabe's son, not if you've suddenly taken a liking to slaughtering innocents!"

Sebastian shook his head wearily and sighed, his anger spent as quickly as it had begun. "Mari, I'm sorry. I am very tired, too tired to be decent company."

"I don't expect you to be Sebastian," she said, lowering her voice to a husky whisper that soothed, and ignited every nerve in his body at the same time. "And you don't have to apologize, else I'll have to apologize for showing up uninvited… Naked for that matter! But, I thought that after all you must have been through these last days and nights, you might wish some company yourself."

"Then you were mistaken." But she hadn't been, and Sebastian knew it. To tell her what had happened, to be able to pour out his fears and his grief to her non-judgmental, sympathetic ears, was almost unbearably tempting, like a cupful of water to a man dieing of thirst. Unable to read his expression, Marian shrugged self-consciously beneath his scrutiny, and the silk night robe slipped to one side, falling from her shoulder.

Again Sebastian was reminded how _**informally**_ she'd been dressed beneath the wolf's fur. And how now, as she stood before him, the robe she donned to cover herself had only accentuated the thin line of her waist, the flare of her generous hips and revealed the lithe, tanned, length of her legs were the emerald fabric opened ever so slightly. Her crimson hair was left free, the thick, wild mass drawn over her slim shoulder.

She stepped to one side, lightly rapping her knuckles on the little table set before the fire. "I thought you might want some more substantial comfort food, too." She smiled sheepishly. "It's the innkeeper in me, you see. I simply cannot handle seeing anyone hungry or thirsty, and I'll wager you can't remember the last time you ate."

"Oh, Marian," he whispered, but still couldn't help smiling in return. Somehow, caught in his own whirlwind of misery, shock and lust he hadn't noticed the feast spread on the table. Sliced ham, a round of cheese, pickled eggs, a plump loaf of bread, Maker even a fish and egg pie with a glistening glazed crust sat before him! And to wash it all down sat a pitcher of Antivan brandy. How did she know exactly what he needed? One look at it all, and already his mouth was beginning to water.

"Ha, there!" She cooed softly," I can recognize that look on any man's face! Now sit here, Sebastian, in this chair near the fire, and let me get whatever you wish. I promise you'll feel infinitely more agreeable once your belly is full." He looked from the table to Marian eagerly holding the winged back of the armchair with both hands to offer it to him. Her night coat had slipped farther down her arm, the thin fabric baring more of her sun-kissed skin. Without the stiff boning of the corsets she seemed to adore, her breasts were round and full, and their weight pressed gently against the emerald silk. As she leaned forward across the chair, his eyes were drawn to the shadowy valley of the deep V her robe created, and it was only with great difficulty that he forced himself to look away. But as he did, with shock he noticed something else. The golden, heart-shaped locket she'd always worn without fail before, was gone. Because Mari had made no secret of not loving her husband, Sebastian had come to suspect that Gabe's picture was tucked within the heart, and to find the locket missing now, for the first time, on this night of all others, made joy leap almost painfully within his chest. She'd said that Gabriel was just a friend, and at last Sebastian began to believe it.

She tapped her fingertips on the back of the chair, unaware of his thoughts. "Don't look so suspicious, Sebastian," she said. "You can trust me, you know. Food is far too precious these days for me to lace all this with poison merely for the sake of doing away with one brilliantly, haughty Templar. Watch, serha, and I'll prove it." She reached across the table and plucked one of the pickled eggs from the bowl. With the sweeping motions of a conjurer she held the egg in the air between her thumb and index finger for him to see, placing the other hand at her waist in a gesture that screamed 'I'm about to say I told you so.' Then with great exaggeration, she bit into the egg, her lips cherry red against the white of it. "There," she said when she'd swallowed. He could tell she felt on safer ground here; hungry men were her specialty, after all. "You can see I haven't perished. Now, if you do not sit down right now, I vow I will most certainly see myself a perfect failure as a hostess."

"No wonder you've prospered, Lady Hawke," he grumbled, but nonetheless he sat in the chair, perhaps a little tentatively, and let her push the table closer to him. He could tell how hard she was trying to lighten the mood between them – the sheepish little smiles, the coaxing, even the bit with the egg that doubtless was so popular with her regular guests – and he didn't wish to disappoint her, not over something as foolish as this. Besides he was hungry, he couldn't deny that, especially not as she placed a plate of food before him.

"You're not having anything yourself?" he asked as he began to cut into the pie. "Surely it's been a while since you last ate, too."

"If I ate with every guest, Sebastian, I'd be as burly as a dwarve and twice as round," she said as she poured the brandy into his tankard. "I'd devour all my profits, too. I know you prefer rougher brandy, but at this hour you'll do better with something smoother."

"My, my, how you see to my welfare," he teased, both amused and touched by her compassion. He couldn't remember the last time a woman fussed over him like this, and he'd forgotten how pleasant it could be. Even if he didn't deserve it. Maker, help him, what would she do if she knew about Gabriel? No, it wasn't an _**if**_. _**When**_ she learned about Gabe. At the thought, the succulent fish and egg pie turned tasteless in his mouth, and he reached for his tankard to wash it down. She had turned to urge more life from the fire, bending down with her hands sparking. The emerald night coat draped across her hips and bottom, and he liked the way her little feet and ankles arched up as she bent down closer to the hearth. He noticed then, the glow of the cobalt teardrop shimmering in the fire's light; she had wrapped its long chain around her delicate ankle numerous times so that only the jewel dangled when she moved. When he'd purchased it he'd pictured it between her breasts, tickling the tender flesh every time she moved, causing her to think of him. However seeing it placed with great care around her ankle, he wondered if she knew what such simple things did to him?

He shifted uneasily in his chair. If he had any conscience left at all, he'd send her away now, the way he should have done in the first place. But instead he merely waited in silence as she dusted her hands together and perched on the edge of the other chair. The silence stretched longer as he turned back to the food on his plate, and Mari sighed, her hands folded in her lap as she watched him eat.

"You've never gone hungry, have you?" she asked softly. "Not just tonight, I mean, but ever in your life."

He frowned, not quite sure what she was asking. "I've been hungry, yes, just as I've been sated once I've eaten. It's generally the way of men."

**7-7-7 **

She shook her head with a little shrug of her shoulders. "For those like you, who've always had money, I suppose it is. It's another of the things I've come to recognize in my trade," she said lightly, choosing not to confess how often as a child she herself had gone to sleep hungry on the straw-filled mattress under the eaves. "The way you hold your fork and knife, how you lift your food to your mouth and not the other way around, small things like that. You've always known there will be another meal coming after this one, and the next will be every bit as fine as the last. And though you may have grown up in the wilderness, still your mum took care with your manners."

"Not my mother, no." By the way he suddenly set his knife and fork down, Marian knew she'd made him uncomfortable. It hadn't been her intention and she inwardly kicked herself for it.

"My parents are – were." He paused obvious pain brushing over his tired face, and she reached across the table to touch his sleeve in unspoken sympathy. "They had their heir and their spare, I was a mere inconvenience. They loved me of course, or at least I believe they did, but to kill any chance of a rivalry for Starkhaven's throne, I was raised by my grandparents, in their house, so you can lay all of the credit for my manners and none of the blame to my grandmum."

"It's all credit, that I can see, Sebastian."

"Ah, well, she was a true Nevarran lady," his said, gaze growing distant at the memory. "She always expected people to call her that, too, 'my Lady Leela,' on account of her being an earl's granddaughter. Everyone in Val Royeaux did, even though by rights she should have put aside the title when she wed my granddae,' an Orleasian at that!"

"Lady Leela," repeated Marian quietly. "How very… Grand."

"That she was," he admitted. " Her own Nevarran warriors lurking in the woods and Qunari juggernauts not far behind, yet she always saw to it that there was fine cloth and silver on the table, and wine to drink the health of the Divine." Wistfully Marian tried to imagine growing up in such a household, so very different from the bleak poverty of her own childhood, and failed.

"The Divine's blood to drink, and silver on the table," she said, slipping her hand away from his arm. "No wonder you chose to stand by the Divine as her right hand. How could you do otherwise?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Serving as a Templar in the Divine's holy army was my idea, not my grandmum's," he said. "She and my granddae' had wanted me to serve as a simple brother here in the Kirkwall Chantry. Joining the Templar ranks was my way to seek all the things a restless young lad wants, glory, adventure and a chance to leave my youth behind. Dreams, that was all it was, Mari, the same kind of dreams you must have had yourself."

Oh, she'd had dreams, all right; she thought sadly, dreams enough for any young, foolish lass. Without thinking, she touched the place where her locket usually hung, remembering too late that when she'd decided to seduce Sebastian tonight, that she didn't want reminders of herself as Nova's mother, for fear she'd back out. But Nova and Sebastian were too tangled together to be so easily put aside, and sorrowfully she looked down at the empty place on her chest where the locket with her – no, _**their**_ daughter's picture should have been.

**7-7-7**

Sebastian saw where her fingers rested on the bared skin at the apex of her collarbone, and his heart sank as he guessed the rest. Damnation, what else could he expect, blabbering on about himself like some thick-witted fool! But she'd taken the first step by removing the locket. It was up to him, now, to take the next one. He reached across the table to take her hand. "I didn't mean to make you sad, sweet," he said gruffly. "The dreams I had then are long gone and cast away. But I've found new ones to take their place, Mari, new ones that are much more dear to me because they include you."

Troubled, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her chin still low against her chest. What was she thinking he wondered, as both the burnt-orange and the supernatural blue swirled in her fear filled eyes? If she dared to dream with him, could she dare to hope and to trust with him, as well?

"There is nothing sure between us, is there, Sebastian?" she said, divulging her inner turmoil as if she'd heard his plea. "Nothing will last, nothing is certain. When you said goodbye two nights ago, I was sick from fearing you would not return."

"Mari, love, you-"

"No please, Sebastian, listen!" She had risen to her feet, her fingers twisting hard into his. "You swore you'd try to court me the way I hadn't been before. I scoffed, believing I was beyond such fancies, but I'm not. Sebastian, I'm not, not in the least! The lyrium kiss, the gloves, the little paper heart, each one is so dear to me, now more than ever because they came from you."

**7-7-7**

His lopsided smile was almost boyish, at odds with his stubbled jaw and the weary lines around his eyes. "That's as I meant it to be, sweet lass."

"Well, yes, else you wouldn't have done it, would you?" She smiled uncertainly, her cheeks growing hot. "And because all we may have is tonight, this night, I wanted to show you how I care, too."

"Mari." He shoved his chair back from the table and reached for her other hand, drawing her closer to stand directly in front of him. Gently he held her hands in his, stroking his thumbs across her upturned wrists. He wouldn't promise her things that couldn't be, or insult her by telling her they'd have a long, happy life together. She knew better than that, and so did he, and the knowledge gave her offer an almost unbearable sadness. "You've already given me a great deal more than such a shoddy rogue deserves."

"But not the way I wished to." She felt oddly captive, not from the way he was holding her hands, but by the deceptively simple touch of his thumbs moving over the blue veins of her wrists. She shook her head, trying to think straight while the wisps of her hair drifted back and forth on either side of her face. "I wanted this – this supper… Everything to be special, a surprise," she continued wistfully. "After what I heard from your men, I'd hoped you'd be happy, and wishing to celebrate. I didn't know that your attack or ambush or whatever it was hadn't gone as you'd wished."

"But that's changed, hasn't it?" he teased softly; as she tried to stave off the tears she could feel rising. She was right when she'd told him this night could be their last and Marian would be damned if she'd be remembering it through a haze of tears. "I'd say that this attack or ambush or whatever it is you've planned for me is proceeding exactly as you wished. And I'm not about to challenge a word of your orders."

In one easy motion, Sebastian pulled her onto his lap and into his arms, and before she could think to protest, his lips had found hers, warm and demanding and certain of her welcome.

She told herself she should get free of him. She told herself that this may have been exactly what she had wanted, what she'd needed, but she'd been foolish. She told herself to choose such a passing pleasure knowing the pain it would undoubtedly cause, was nothing more then masochistic and destructive. She told herself she had enough sorrow in her life without adding such wayward vices. She told herself all these things, sternly in fact, as only her conscience could. Then she told herself to stop lying, and shuttered her torturous thoughts, letting her heart, overrule her mind with infinite ease. She told herself, she simply refused to miss this. With a little sigh of surrender, she straddled him, slipping her legs through the open arms of the chair, curling closer into his embrace. Her lips parted eagerly, allowing her tongue to tangle with his. She felt his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, and with only her thin, night robe between them, she was achingly aware both of his touch and of the corded muscles of his thighs beneath her. He was so intriguingly _**male**_, she thought as he deepened the kiss, strong and hard where she was soft and yielding in ways she'd never realized. In alternating motions between hard and soft, she rocked her bare sex over the coarse fabric of his trews.

"Oh yes, Mari!" Sebastian moaned, his hands tightening into a bruising grip on her hips and his head lolling back against the winged chair, as he tried to both stop and urge her motions. His tortured reaction to her rocketed a delicious, heated injection of feminine pride through her taut body. She twisted toward him, instinctively seeking more of his heady moans and the wonderful differences between them. From the first time she had slipped against him, that night on horseback, she'd pictured this moment, the moment when haunting dreams turned to sensual reality. Swiveling her hips with sure strokes, she let her hands creep across his chest to his shoulders, over the wool of his tunic. Beneath her palm she felt the beat of his heart, a steady echo to her own racing pulse, and she slid her hands around the back of his neck, his shaggy hair curling over her wrists.

"Oh!" Marian gasped, jumping back with surprise when she felt his hand on the front of her night robe, grazing the curve of her breast through its silken cover. She hated how her cheeks flamed from his intimate caress. She'd been with numerous men and women, even a Kossith that one time… So why, now, in Sebastian's arms did she blush like a maiden? Gods, he'd think her a fool! Yet the gentleness of his touch reassured her even as it warmed her blood, and she slipped back further, giving him better access.

With lazy, tantalizing strokes his hands skimmed up the fabric of her robe, delving beneath to slowly ease the soft fabric back, his mouth following the fiery trail they left behind, placing heated love bites to her neck then shoulders. By the time his hands reached the fastening of her robe, she was trembling with anticipation. He tugged loose the tie, letting the robe slip the rest of the way, baring her completely to the chilled air, and when he trailed a hand back up to cup her breast, she gasped with the sheer pleasure of it. She rocked against his palm, seeking more, even though she couldn't have begun to explain what _**more**_ might be. It was a mystery she'd carried with her for eleven years, and now, at last, the secret was nearly within reach, if she dared to seize it.

She gasped again, beginning to pant, as his lips moved to where his hands had been, drawing her nipple into the wet heat of his wicked mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him there, crying out breathy sighs of wild pleasure, mewling into him and rocking her hips, her erratic movements making Sebastian groan and nip harder, only to ease the sting with soft swirls of his tongue. Her whole body was taut and heavy with longing, the restless fire centering low in her belly.

And then, abruptly, he stopped.

"Enough, Mari." He growled, the words hot against her skin. "I can't bear this any longer."

"NOOOO!" She bellowed angrily, her hands still twisted in his sorrel mane attempting to coax him unsuccessfully back to her aching nipples. "Please don't stop, Sebastian." She cried shamelessly "The Gods as my witness, I'll light you on fire if you do!"

"Maker, sweet lass, dae' ye think Ah'd want tae'. It's nae' ye. It's this cursed chair!

"Oops." She giggled sheepishly; putting out the fireball she'd begun to conjure, as relief washed through her like a wave from the waking sea. Slipping her legs from the chair, she slid off his lap and crawled on top of the plush feather bed. "Well, serha, you're in luck," she whispered. She could feel his eyes riveted to her naked form, singeing her skin with their turquoise flame. "The beds here in the Rose are exceptional for just these types of situations!" Getting to her hands and knees, she lowered her chest to the mattress stretching her arms out in front of her. Pushing her rump high in the air, she swayed her hips, her inner harlot attempting to lure him to her as she parted her thighs, baring her slick sex to the cool air. "Sebastian, I ache," She purred, her body pulsing with need.

"Were, dae' ye ache sweet lass?" He was against her so fast it winded and startled her, his bared chest flush with the curve of her back, his scorching tongue running the length of her spine. _When had he lost his clothing?_ Oh, God's it didn't matter she needed more of him, all of him! "Show me wee Hawke." He murmured, roughly fisting his left hand in her hair, forcing her to rise on her knees till her back rested against the firm, corded muscles of his broad chest.

Mewling into his domination, Marian grabbed his right hand running it over her body and down to her core, guiding a single digit into the wet heat he'd lit. "Here… Gods here!" She panted harder, pushing his finger till it reached the knuckle. "Deep. In here."

He groaned against the junction between her neck and shoulder. The hand in her hair tightened, sending shocks of pained pleasure from her roots, all the way to her toes.

"Ye're certain of this, Mari?" he asked, stilling their hands. "Ye' know ah cannae' undo the past, but Maker help me. I've no wish tae' hurt ye again!"

Wriggling from his grasp, Marian flipped herself so that she could face him. What more could she do to convince him, that _**this**_ – _**them**_ was exactly what she wanted?!

He was seated back on his heels, gloriously nude, every ounce of his chiseled, cinnamon flesh spread out for her inspection, his cock standing hard, long and broad at attention. Yet it was the serious edge in his turquoise eyes that left her gasping for breath. What she was about to say would only magnify the complications between them by a hundredfold, but to get what she needed, she had to tell him.

"That was long ago, Sebastian," she said softly. "I'm not some starry-eyed maid any longer, and now I can see you for the man you truly are."

His smile was heartbreakingly unsure. "O' what a sorry bargain, that, sweet lass."

"Oh, no. It's the very best bargain there is," she cooed as she pulled him down on top of her, brushing her lips over his. "Because you, Sebastian Vael, are the man I love."

**7-7-7**

No woman had ever said that to him and meant it, not the way that Mari did, and for the first time he realized the power such little words could hold. In spite of the unspeakable way he'd treated her before, in spite of the white armor he wore, in spite of whatever he'd thought she felt for his brother, in spite of it all, she had chosen to love him.

Not that it was any choice for him. He had been a soldier too long not to believe in fate, and fate, he was quite certain, had spared him through battle after battle to bring him back across the Waking Sea from Orlais, to Kirkwall, and to her. How else but through fate could they have managed to find each other again?

"And I love you, Marian Hawke," he said slowly, slipping kisses across her skin basking in the heady mixture of vanilla musk, jasmine and that tinge of burnt caramel. A scent all her own feminine, strong, and he helplessly thrust himself into the mattress betwixt her thighs. He needed to take her rough and fast. It had been so long, he wouldn't last this first round, and the beast within demanded he stake his claim, that he take her neck between his teeth as he defiled her sweet, velvet heat.

"Mari!" he moaned unable to say more, desperately begging her to understand the need that pulsed through his veins.

"You think too much Sebastian," She growled, as the scent of lyrium swirled the room, in an instant she had him on his back, straddling his hips, his arms pinned to the mattress with her magic. She rocked against him, rolling her generous hips. At the same time his cock slipped against her damp folds, making him shudder with need and for one perfect moment the crown nudged her slick opening.

"Ah' donnae' want tae' hurt ye again, lass!" He groaned, his brogue so thick he doubted she understood him, as she blazed a trail of heated kisses down his chest, circling her tongue around his navel.

"But I hurt now, Sebastian." She hissed. Slapping her hands flat against his thighs, she took his shaft between her soft lips, working it into the sizzling heat of her mouth. All thought fled - as he watched her in awe- replaced with mixed sensations of icy cold, electric heat and white, hot passion.

"Mari, oh, that's it." He growled, bucking his hips. "Release mah' hands, lass! Ah' need tae' feel ye." As soon as the pressure pinning his arms fled, he pulled her away, tossing her to her knees. Clenching a hand at the nape of her neck he shoved her chest into the mattress. And was nearly engulfed by the beast when she swayed her hips again, to entice him. "Donnae' do that." He barked, wrapping his hands in a bruising grip on her hips to halt her. He'd spend right here, on the satin sheets, before he ever got a chance to lay his claim if she continued torturing him like this.

He needed something more from her. He didn't want to be another notch on Marian Hawke's bedpost. Nay, he wanted her as a lover and wife. He wanted her to forget every other, and surrender more than her body to him. He wanted her heart, her soul! But, then she mewled against him, his cock running the length of her dripping sex once more.

"Sebastian, I need you to make love to me," she begged. "I hurt so bad!" _Mah' Mari, hurting? Never! _He lost it. All coherent thought gone, the Vael beast rose, as all his noble fancies fled. In one swift motion he buried himself to the hilt. She yelped, a low guttural sound. Raising herself back against him, she encircled her arms around his neck to brace herself against the unrelenting pistoning of his hips. She took him fully, as if she was made just for him. And every time he quickened the pace she matched him, always clenching her wet, tight heat on the upstroke and unclenching on the down.

"Ah'll' nate' be letting' ye go, lass." His voice was low, foreign to his own ears.

"I never want you to," she panted. The sound a sweet melody to Sebastian's ears.

Drawing back, till only the crown of his pulsing cock was seated in her depths, he gripped her scarlet curls yanking her head to one side exposing the erratic pulse below the sweat, slicked skin of her neck. He brushed his lips over it, and reveled in the breathy sigh that escaped her lips.

"Do it, mark me, Sebastian. I'm yours. Oh gods." She blurted, the words tumbling from her mouth in quick succession. Her hands had worked down from his neck, to the muscles of his ass, her blunt nails digging into the skin as she tried to urge him to seat himself once more.

"Mine!" he snarled, violently sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, wrenching her down hard on his shaft. She screamed a chorus of pleasured oaths and he felt how her sex clenched around him, milking him greedily. Mindlessly snarling against her neck, he plunged into her velvet warmth over and over. He was crazed with the need to come, thrusting, grunting, driving. He released her neck throwing back his head, roaring to the ceiling as the first waves of orgasm rocked him. His back bowed from the force of it, waves and waves of pent up come jetting from him, in thick streams. She took everything he had to give, until they both collapsed in a tangled, sated pile.

"Ah' love ye, Mari," he murmured again, pulling her close with him as he rolled to his side. Tenderly he smoothed the damp, crimson curls away from the shell of her ear, watching her smile dreamily at him. He would never tire of saying the words, an incantation to keep the world away from their own paradise. "Ah' love ye", Mari."

**7-7-7**

_I love Sebastian, and he loves me._ It was the one thought Mari held on to as she stared drowsily into the dying embers of the fire in the hearth. His body still lay tangled intimately with hers, his arms thrown protectively around her even as he slept. She had never felt as content, or as happy, as she did at this moment.

She couldn't quite remember when she and Sebastian had shifted from lying on top of the blankets to beneath them. But she knew she'd never forget the passion they'd shared, the way the desire in her blood had built hotter and fiercer than anything she could have dreamed of. And when at last, after he'd teased her body into frenzied passion, he entered her, there had been none of the hollow, aching emptiness she'd found with every other before him. Instead, there had been only pleasure beyond imagining as the tension in her body coiled tighter and tighter and her heart raced so fast she was sure she'd explode, and then, in a marvelous, unexpected way, she had, crying out Sebastian's name.

She loved Sebastian, and he loved her. With a sigh, she burrowed closer to him, and let her own eyes drift shut.

She loved Sebastian, and… She heard the door open and close far away in the house. The kitchen door; that was the one that squeaked on its hinges that way. Who would come to the back door at this hour, and more importantly, who had unbarred the door to let them in? In an instant she was wide-awake, every nerve on edge.

_Please, Gods, not Gabriel, not here, not tonight! _Marian felt her heart pounding, sick with dread from that one very real possibility. Desperately she told herself it was only that, a possibility. There must be a hundred places on the outskirts of the city Gabriel could go to hide, and if he had any sense left at all, The Rose wouldn't be one of them.

_Please, oh please, not tonight…_

She closed her eyes again, forlornly wishing she could simply go to sleep in the warm shelter of Sebastian's body and forget the door until morning. Reality and responsibility would intrude on them soon enough. But now she could make out the murmur of voices, too, and she knew she couldn't afford to ignore them any longer. She slipped free of Sebastian's arm, pulling the blanket over his bare shoulder. He looked so much younger when he slept, his handsome face relaxed and at peace, and her heart swelled with how much she loved him.

She dressed quickly, the room chilly now, with the untended fire so low, her ears straining to make out the voices downstairs. She was sure that one of them belonged to Orana, but the other was too soft for her to distinguish, and again she prayed it wasn't Gabe.

With her slippers in her hand, she bent over Sebastian and feathered a kiss across his cheek. He stirred in his sleep, smiled, and murmured her name with a drowsy tenderness that almost broke her resolve. How she longed to climb back into bed beside him! But, with a sigh instead, she left, quietly closing the door after her, promising herself she'd return as soon as she could, and if she was lucky, she'd be back before he even realized she was gone.

On the back stairs, she paused to pull on her slippers and listen. Again all she could hear was the gruff rise and fall of Orana's voice, and Marian's fears began to ease. Gabriel couldn't possibly be here; he'd never be able to keep quiet this long. More likely it was only Cricket, or perhaps Fenris come to see Orana to apologize for a spat they'd had. Such things happened all the time. With a final twitch of her emerald robe, she pushed open the kitchen door.

"Ah, there you are, Hawke!" said Orana, her voice laced with accusation, her almond eyes narrowing on Marian's neck. From her dress, she, too, must have been roused from her chambers in the Rose; two long braids brushed both of her slim shoulders, and she wore a shawl thrown hastily over her thin nighty. "I went looking for you in your room, I knocked and knocked, but you never answered."

"I'm a deep sleeper, Orana, you know that," said Marian defensively, pulling her robe tighter so that it covered her marking. She owed no excuses to her friend, and she wasn't going to offer any, either. Besides, the kitchen appeared empty except for them, and wistfully she thought again of Sebastian waiting for her upstairs. "Why did you wish to wake me anyways? What couldn't wait until morning?"

"It's mah' fault, Lady Hawke." A small, bedraggled figure slipped from behind the side of the tall oak pantry. Clearly Dallas Vael was trying his best to be as brave as he could, but across the dirt on his cheeks were the pale trails left by tears, and self-consciously he swiped a sleeve across his nose. "Pa said Ah' could always come here tae' ye if Ah' was in trouble."

Righteously Orana clucked her tongue. "There now, Mari, what-"

"Hush, Orana!" Marian stepped closer to the boy. He was trembling, and from the haunted look in his eyes she knew it wasn't from the cold alone. No child should have that look, she thought sadly, and if his back wasn't so stiff from living up to his father's notions of manhood, she would have swept him into her arms at once. "Your father's right, Dallie," she coaxed gently. "You can always come here to me, whether you're in trouble or not."

"Aye, mum," he mumbled, and stared down at his feet. "It's just that – just that – oh, mum!" The boy's veneer crumbled, his shoulders shook as sobs the size of tidal waves tore through him, and with his head down he stumbled toward her, throwing his arms around her and burying his face against her robe. Swiftly Marian disentangled the boy from her robe and kneeled to his level, and now Dallas let her hold him tight, his cheek pressed into the hollow of her shoulder as she stroked his tangled brown hair, his salty tears stinging Sebastian's sensual bite. "Pa's – Pa's dead," he hiccoughed, choking himself on another fit of tears "an' it was mah' turncoat, coward uncle that shot him."

_Hey all, _

_I just wanted to pop in, say "hey!" And mention how awesome the love from all you readers has been. When I decided to come back and finish this, I really didn't expect there to be any interest, but that hasn't been the case at all and the support is amazing. Soo… THANK YOU. _

_To the guest who stopped by and took the time to review, first off you're awesome. To answer your question though it was a mixture of things. Originally I had decided that it was crazy to assume the entire world of Thedas would agree on one form of religion. With that in mind and with a love for both Roman and Greek Mythology, I decided I'd add several deities to the pot. It also adds another layer to Sebastian and Marian's differences, with both being so deeply devout to their own Maker/Makers._

_Hopefully that answers your question…_

_And hopefully everyone loves them up some sexxxyy times!_

_-Scar _


	17. Chapter 17

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Seventeen_

"Here you go, Dallie, drink this," said Marian softly as she handed the boy the tankard of coco. "You won't be able to tell me anything with your teeth chattering like that." With a shuddering sigh, the boy took the tankard; his shoulders huddled beneath a blanket Orana had retrieved from the storeroom. Gently Marian brushed his hair back from his forehead, worriedly noting how he'd fallen too far into his own misery to pull back. In a way, she wished he still could cry; that would be better than seeing him withdraw into himself like this.

Better, too, for her to think of the welfare of the boy, Gabriel's son, than to consider the grim reason he'd sought her out. Better not to think how Sebastian had come to her, as well, with Gabe's blood still fresh on his hands and his conscience, and once again she swallowed back the dull, sickening wave of horror and unwitting complicity. Sebastian had been able to tell her he loved her, but not _**this**_? Lying in his arms, she had forgotten the grim suffering that came from the mage rebellion, and the awful, casual fragility of life. She had dared to hope that love might be enough for them both. She had changed, and so, she'd believed, had Sebastian.

But, not enough. Dear Gods, not nearly enough.

Behind her, Orana sniffed, still angered with Marian and shuffled to the door. "I'll go warm the hearth in Nova's room," she said, "sleep's the best thing we can offer the poor fella now."

"Not quite yet, Orana." Marian leaned closer to Dallas and rested her hands on his small shoulders. "I know it pains you to speak of it, Dallie, but if you can bear it, I'd like to hear what happened one more time."

"All happened so fast, mum," he mumbled brokenly, staring down into the swirling coco. "Pa and Ah' were late 'cause Pa had tae' go back for more arrows, crossbow bolts an' lyrium, an' so we saw the others get taken by the Templars. Then Pa says we should run, he wasnae' going tae' get caught in that snare like some forsaken beast, so off we start, an' then my uncle hollered at him tae' stop and Pa didnae' and then the bow string hissed, an' Ah' kept running an' running an' running." His head drooped lower, to his chest. "Ah' didnae' know Pa was hit till Ah' looked back an' he was gone. Then Ah' saw the Templars coming, too, an' Ah' kept on running, like Pa says… Said." His eyes squeezed shut as he fought back fresh tears. "Then Ah' came here, Lady Hawke, 'cause Ah' didnae' know where else tae' go, an' that's all Ah' swear tae' it."

"You didn't see where your father fell?" asked Marian gently. "When you stopped to look for him, did you see his body?"

Behind her, Orana gasped angrily. "Marian Annika Hawke, for shame, how dare you! Hasn't the poor fella suffered enough heartache without you making him explore every gruesome detail?"

Without lifting her hands from the boy's shoulders, she glanced over her shoulder, to glare daggers through the little elf. "Hush, Orana, and let Dallie tell us. If he wants to, that is. Only if he wants to."

"Ah' want tae' if ye' do," said Dallas in a small voice. "But Ah' – Ah' never saw Pa again once we started tae' run. Ah' heard him be struck, though. The _thunk _o' the arrow, Lady Hawke, ye' know how that is. Then Pa crying out, like he couldnae' help it."

"I don't expect he could," said Marian sadly. She _**did**_know the flesh rending thunk an arrowhead made when it found its mark. The sound, on several nights had awoken her with shuddering cold sweats, and it sickened her to think that Dallas knew it too. "But in the dark and all – were you quite sure it was your uncle who shouted, and not some other Templar officer?" She knew it was foolish even to hope that the boy might be wrong, and the speed with which Dallas answered proved it.

"O' course Ah' am sure, mum," he said defensively. "Except fer' the white armor an' stuffy Orleasian hitch tae' his Starkhaven brogue, he looks an' sounds just like Pa. An' Ah' saw him raise the bow, clear as day in the moonlight, before Ah' ran."

Marian sighed unhappily. "But you saw nothing more of your father when you looked back?"

Dallas shook his head. "Nae' one was there except serha Mekel and the Comte de Launcet running, too."

Marian sighed, confusion washing over her. She hadn't a clue, whom Mekel was, and Guillaume de Launcet had left Kirkwall, she had watched him board a ship for Orlais with his wife weeks ago! "Comte de Launcet? Are you sure Dallie?" She questioned, swiping a tear from the corner of the boy's eye. "I watched him leave for Orlais."

"Aye, mum, he left, but before he did Pa tried tae' convince him tae' fight the good fight on account o' his son being a mage an' all. Ah' guess Pa's words sorta stuck, he came back. An' was back with us, along with serha Mekel, cause Pa likes – liked tae' keep the new men with him till he could trust them." 

Marian nodded, her thoughts swirling. "I don't believe I know serha Mekel?"

"Ye' don't mum?" asked Dallas, surprise on his otherwise stoic face. "Serha Mekel is second mate o' The Siren's Call," explained Dallas. "Aunt Isabela's ship. An' Comte de Launcet-"

"Is a very prominent Orleasian Lord," Interrupted Marian, her eyebrows creased into a deep V as she desperately tried to puzzle the pieces. "He's a good man, sure to earn your father's confidence."

"But he cannae' now," said Dallas, his voice barely audible. "Not from mah' Pa, anyways."

"What else do you know about both men, Dallie?" asked Marian, hating herself for how callous she felt, grilling a boy who'd already been through so much. Orana was right; she was shameful indeed.

"Ah' dunno much about serha Mekel, he keeps tae' himself a lot, but he's nearly as good as Pa with a bow, an' better than aunt Isabela with daggers."

"Don't tell aunt Bela that," Marian teased, chucking a finger under Dallas's chin, hoping to coax a smile from him. Instead his face grew more haunted, his eyes more hollow, and she found herself wondering what horrid deeds of Mekel and his blades that the boy was reliving. "And what of the Comte?" she urged, giving the boys shoulders a light shake to bring him back to her.

Dallas hummed quietly to himself as he thought. Suddenly his eyes sparked and he met Marian's intent gaze. "Pa says – said, Comte de Launcet is an asset cause he owns a mill on the outskirts o' the cities limits!"

_That's it_! Swiftly she rose and reached for the box of bandages, health potions and other surgeon's supplies from the cupboard's top shelf. The last time she took the box down had been to tend to Sebastian, and now, with the tables turned, she prayed she'd be able to do the same for Gabriel. _Please Gods let him still be alive_, she begged silently, _please say that Sebastian didn't kill his brother, as his orders told him he must_!

She traded her silk covered slippers for the thick-soled shoes she kept by the back door and wrapped a heavy shawl around her shoulders. She began to take her own cloak down from the peg, than reconsidered and took Orana's coarser one instead. Though she doubted that the sentry Sebastian had assigned to her would be waiting to follow her at this time of night, she still thought it best to be careful. With the cloak's hood pulled up over her face and in the dark, she could pass for Orana. She planned to slip out the back door and through the stable to tack Casey, so that she could be sure the Templars couldn't follow. The mare would be too fast, gone like a drunkard's shot of whiskey, before they could ready their own beasts.

Fleetingly she considered leaving a message for Sebastian to find when he awoke, some explanation for where she'd gone. But after what they'd shared, only the truth would do between them, and how would the truth look on paper?

'Oh, hey love, wild night, I believe we broke the bedsprings. But I'm off, on a quest to save your brother's life, and fix your foolish mistake. Pancakes in the kitchen if you're hungry.

XOXOX

Mari'

Nay, he wouldn't understand, any more than Gabriel would understand how she felt about Sebastian, and all too easily she could imagine the stern frown of disapproval on Sebastian's face. No, far better for her to slip away now and pray she'd return before he awoke.

"Orana, if you could warm Nova's room, I believe Dallas should rest now," whispered Marian, at the elf's ear.

"You're going out to find serha Vael then, aren't you, Mari?" asked Orana. She nodded with approval. "It's good that you are. Master Vael has been a good friend to the Rose, and to the cause of freedom." Marian gazed at the cook through the narrowed slits of her eyes. What in the Black Void was Orana thinking? The boy would never sleep now, not with the mention of his father. Instantly Dallas was on his feet, proving her fears right. "If ye're going after Pa, then Ah' am coming with ye'."

"Oh, Dallas, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," said Marian softly. The boy had suffered enough tonight, and she'd no wish to raise his hopes again. All she could guess was that this Mekel fella and the Comte had carried Gabriel away before the Templars could find him. Whether they had carried a live man or a dead one was another question altogether. "You'll do better to stay here with Orana, and I promise I'll come tell you whatever I learn when I return."

"Nae', mum!" The boy hurried forward, awkwardly taking the basket away from her. "Please, mum. If ye' know where my Pa is, then Ah' am coming. Ah' have tae'. Mah' place is with my Pa."

Marian began to refuse, then stopped. She recognized the harsh set in his upturned jaw. That unrelenting, 'never back down, never take no for an answer' determination so much like Nova's, that stern certainty that all Vael's had, and inwardly she winced as she realized that for the first time she'd thought of Nova as a Vael. Sebastian, Gabriel, Dallas and Nova – Gods, how had their lives all become so completely tangled?

"Please, mum," Dallas urged again. "Ah' swear Ah'll be nae' trouble at all."

She remembered how Nova had begged to come with her, too, and how many times since she'd wished she'd agreed. How could she possibly deny Gabe's son the same?

Slowly she began to remove her cloak and shawl stuffing both in the basket of supplies. Her plan wouldn't work now it was far too risky. If the Templars did catch her as she fled the city on horseback they'd very likely shoot at her, with only her life at stake she figured the risk a necessary evil. But now she'd have to figure out a better plan. Though as she thought more about the one she was conjuring, it too seemed just as foolhardy.

She'd shift, let the wolf take form and they'd walk right out the front door. She and Dallas would look like a sleepy boy taking his restless dog for a walk – his very big, BIG dog – yes. But what were the other options? She could shift to the hawk and be less noticeable, but if the boy was attacked being two-hundred and fifty pounds of raw fury, with jaws that could rip a mans adams apple right out of his throat, through even the strongest of armor, seemed far more advantageous than daintily pecking at horned helms would be. And since shifting out of animal form wasn't always something guaranteed when in the heat of battle, she'd be better off to just be ready for anything. She'd have Dallas carry her clothes and once outside the city she'd change back. Simple…Problem solved. _Riiiggghhttt, as if anything's ever that simple! _Gods, where was Isabela when nothing but ballsy, recklessness would suffice?

"Well come along then." She said moving toward the hall.

"Your going out the front, Mari," Orana asked, worriedly following Marian to the door, Dallas right on her heels. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Maybe… Maybe not… Dallas, remember when you really wanted that mabari pup, and your Pa wouldn't allow it?"

"Aye, mum." the boy answered uncertainty written all over his filthy face.

"Well… You're getting a wolf."

Stepping into the chill of twilight, her sharp nails ticked lightly on the snowy cobblestone and she winced, for the light sound they made echoed loudly through the streets. Immediately, a rush of icy fear lanced through her body and raced down her spine making her hackles raise, and she wasn't the only one that felt it. Dallas came to stand closer to her, wrapping a hand, in a painful grip around her tail as if seeking comfort. Instinctively, she swept her gaze around looking for the source, her lips drawing back from her fangs defensively. But she found nothing, not a Templar sentry, nor soldier, or anyone for that matter. Not even the usual beggars, sat outside her door! Instead the streets were ghostly deserted; a thick fog had settled over the snow-covered cobblestone, and under the moons eerie glow, Marian, felt spotlighted, stalked and incredibly vulnerable, as if she'd just walked out of the tavern, in the middle of the day, completely naked. She wanted nothing more then to turn back into the heat of the Rose and back into Sebastian's arms. But, to do so would also mean she'd be turning her back on Gabriel. Though the man was hard as stone, and more stubborn than twenty mules put together, Orana was right, Gabe was a friend, a good friend and if she could save his foolish arse and deny the streets a few more orphaned children, well that would be worth much more than her own chaotic life could ever be.

Physically, she shook herself from head to tail, taking another slow, sweeping survey of their surroundings. Still she found nothing, no reason for her hackles to be bristled, no man, nor beast stalking them from the shadows. Ignoring the coward screaming in her head, she moved forward… Only to be halted by Dallas' hand, still gripped tight around the center of her tail. The boy stood as still as a statue, his legs spread wide apart, one hand gripping the basket, the other outstretched to hold her. And bless the poor child's heart, though he warred with himself to be brave, Marian could smell his fear, how it held him in place as if unseen vines had crawled from beneath the snow to strangle his small form. _ Gods! _What had she been thinking? How could she expect a ten-year-old boy to be brave, when in this night alone he'd watched his father murdered by his uncle, Templars had struck out at men he knew and loved, and now, he was to traipse about hostile streets, in the middle of the night, with only her and a prayer to keep him safe. She was twenty-eight-years old, the Champion of Kirkwall and a Qunari slayer, yet even she was terrified!

She wanted to hug him to her, to reassure him that all would be well, but there wasn't time for that. They had to get moving, the longer they sat out in the open like this, the more dangerous their situation became. Walking towards the boy as best she could with his hand still knotted on her tail, she cooed, as a mother wolf would to her pup, nuzzling her snout into the boy's chest. When he didn't giggle, or move as she expected him to, Marian wagged her tail vigorously in the hopes it would shake him from his frightened daze. Instead she only managed to have a chunk of fur ripped from her tail's follicles, as his hand slipped away from her. Still he remained stone-like, his face as white as a sheet, and big, turquoise eyes seemingly looking through her, shining bright with unshed, crystalline tears. _Gods, he's gone into shock!_

She sent yet a another prayer skyward though no one seemed to be heeding them, then using the only idea she could think of, Marian wedged herself between the boy's legs. He was still small enough that she could carry him on her back. And though she'd be forced to move slower under the extra weight, movement alone would be a gift. Rising slowly, she felt him center himself on her back, and nearly leapt with joy when his instinct took over and he scruffed her neck tight in the fist not holding the basket. Without another moment of hesitation, she lurched forward, taking off into a full tilt sprint. She was certain once out of the city the unease that roiled low in her stomach would subside.

It hadn't. Instead she'd felt more stalked. Once outside the city's great walls, she had moved from the road, in favor of the shadows the trees would provide. Slowing to a halt she let Dallas slip from her back and grabbed the basket from his hand with her mouth now would be the best time to shift. Sniffing the area around her to be sure they weren't being followed, she was hit – for the second time – with the earthy scent of rosewood and the musk of leather oil, a heady scent that rocketed a sensual passion from her ears to her toes. And why wouldn't it? After all, she'd come to associate it with Sebastian Vael. _Get it together Mari! _Hermind screeched. _There's no time to pine over the fool Templar. _Her inner, smarter self was right of course. Sebastian was tucked away safe in his bed, she had made certain of it and though she wished to be there with him, one couldn't always get what they wanted. Allowing herself to be distracted by the nights passion would most certainly bring nothing but harm, even if the distraction was completely enchanting.

Bowing her head and growling in contempt of her desire, she moved behind a huge oak to shift, keeping Dallas in her view at all times. The boy had finally started to come out of his shocked stupor. And Marian thanked the Gods for small favors; for she wouldn't be able to carry him the rest of the way. Already her body was sore, her muscles tightening in the chilly air, and her nerves screamed their protest with every move she made. Aye, if he could walk on his own she'd kiss the feet of every God and Goddess that resided in the black, diamond filled sky above.

Stepping from behind the grand oak, Marian straightened her thin night robe and Orana's heavy cloak as best she could with her fingers still shaking from the adrenaline of the shift. "Let's go Dallie," she whispered her voice rough as she extended a hand to him. "We've much ground to cover."

"Aye, mum." the boy whispered back, but didn't take her offered hand. With a frown upon her face she watched as he began walking ahead of her his head hung low, tears glistening in the corner of his eyes.

"Dallas." She called, moving forward to grab his shoulders, and kneeled on the cold snow in front of him. "What is it?" The look he gave her nearly broke her heart.

"Ah've failed, Lady Hawke. First Pa, now ye'. Gods, if Pa is still alive, he'll think me a coward on account o' me freezing up back there!" His words did break her heart. No child… No human being for that matter should have ever had to feel, as she knew he did. And she cursed Gabriel for the stress and burden he had so stupidly laid upon his son's young shoulders.

"Now you listen to me Dallas James Vael, and you listen good." She said her voice deadly serious. "I've known men - noble warriors like your Pa - who would be tucked away in a corner, crying themselves to sleep if they'd witnessed half of what you have this night. By the Gods I'm terrified!"

"Ye' are?" He asked his face contorting into surprise. "But ye're the Champion. Pa says… said you killed giant spiders, a high dragon an even a Qunari Arishok! Ye' cannae' be 'fraid o' nothing!"

"Ah, but I am. I'm afraid of lots of things Dallas, spiders topping that list." She smiled as his face fell from surprised, to a look of utter shock. "Fear is natural Dallie, it's an instinct, and it's what helps us survive. If you weren't afraid of anything, then I'd think you a fool, for only a fool doesn't know fear. Are you a fool, boy?" she questioned, but continued before he could do more than shake his head back and forth. "When I faced the Arishok I could barely hold my staff my hands were quaking so badly. I was certain, as I stared into his black, beady eyes that; _**that**_ was the end, that I had failed-"

"But ye' beat him!" Dallas interrupted, unable to control his excitement. "Pa says ye' left him gasping his own blood, right there on the throne room steps."

_Oh Gabriel,_ Marian sighed inwardly, pinching her eyes closed as the boy recounted the tail of the Arishok's demise. He didn't miss a single detail of the duel, and it made her cringe. Though he was in a ten-year-olds body she'd have to soon accept, that he'd been told, and had witnessed things most people _**never**_ in their lifetimes, ever would.

"Dallas, stop. Killing the Arishok wasn't the point I was trying to make. Taking the life of another human being isn't-" She began, but was again interrupted by the boy's enthusiasm.

"Nay, mum. We'll find mah' Pa, then will lay waste tae' these Templar scum. Like ye' did the Arishok!"

"Dallas!" She called, but the boy had already squirmed from her grasp and was marching ahead, no longer listening to her. _Gods help us all!_ She prayed, as the icy feeling of being stalked reared it's ugly head once more, and pushed her feet into motion, after the lad.

De Launcet's mill was one of several that stood on the very tip of the hill overlooking Kirkwall, their long, sweeping blades nearly always in motion by day as they caught the wind that rose from the water. But now the canvas sails were furled for the night and the blades lashed to the ground, their outlines rising from the hilltop like oversized spider webs against the sky. "I've no guarantee your father will be here," cautioned Marian, her voice low in the silence of the night. "I'm only guessing that serha Mekel and the Comte brought him back to the mill."

Silently Dallas nodded and pushed his hat down lower on his brow. The weeks of hiding with his father once again showed. He moved with a stealthy ease beyond his years, sliding from shadow to shadow in the empty fields, and said not another word since her earlier –failed- attempt at talking with him. In a way, he probably knew the odds against finding his father alive better than Marian did. But neither of them would give up, not now. "I believe the Comte's mill is the one to the left," she continued. "Or have you been here before with your Pa?"

This time Dallas shook his head, but as he did his expression abruptly changed, his eyes going wild with alarm. He'd already turned to run when Marian grabbed his arm to hold him, just as the two Templar soldiers stepped into their path.

"Tis either very early or very late for you to be about, mistress," said the older man, peering at her. "A strange time for you and the lad both."

Though Marian felt the tremor of fear run through Dallas' body, still she held him tight. If she let him go, he'd bolt, and as much as admit their errand.

"No babe ever chooses a convenient time for birthing," she said, surprising herself by how readily the lie came to her lips. "The boy came to bring me to ease his mother's agony." Clearly uncomfortable with the notion of such womanly matters, the older soldier only grunted, while the other one shifted from one foot to the other as he tried to warm himself. A good sign, decided Marian: the man was thinking less of her and more of returning to his quarters when his watch was done. She took the basket from Dallas and held it out toward the two men, lifting her shawl so they could look inside. "You can judge for yourself, sirs," she said. "Nothing to threaten the Maker's servants at all."

The soldier inched forward, his mouth twisted with distaste as he prodded through the basket's contents. He glanced back at Marian, and suddenly smiled. "Ah, now, why didn't you say who you were, mistress?" His whole manner instantly became complaisant as he tapped his knuckles on his shimmering chest plate. "You're the Knight-Commander's, ah, lady."

Marian stiffened, her cheeks growing hot. She didn't like being linked to Sebastian this way, as if she were some sort of possession of his. She wasn't his lady, though after tonight she couldn't deny being his. "Knight-Commander Vael is quartered beneath my roof," she said with icy formality, "and so we are acquainted, friends even. But I am no more his 'lady' than he is my gentleman."

"Of course not, ma'am," said the soldier quickly, with a little bow of his head. "Begging your pardon, ma'am." But the knowing grin remained on his face, and the face of his companion, as well, and with a hideous sinking certainty Marian realized that the reputation she'd worked so hard to guard was now tattered and tarnished and common in the soldiers' camp. Love alone, even Sebastian's love, could not protect her from that, either.

"Am I free to go, serha?" She hissed, thankful that in the dark they couldn't see how she flushed with shame. "The boy's mother is in desperate need of me."

"As you wish, ma'am," said the older soldier, stepping to one side slinging his bow over his shoulder. "You and the boy both, are free as the day is long." Yet freedom was far from Marian's thoughts as she and Dallas hurried up the snowy path that led to the mill. Loving Sebastian had brought her a joy she'd never found in her life before, but the price she would pay for that joy was going to be a steep one indeed. And it wasn't just her this time; Nova would suffer, too. She'd known from the beginning that there was no future for her together with Sebastian, and he'd never pretended otherwise. But now came the cold reality of what they'd done – what she had done – and again the consequences loomed heavily before her.

Though she'd shared many beds in her life, she had never intended to share his again. What had happened to her eleven years ago should have been warning enough, and unconsciously her hand fluttered down to brush across her belly. Had the easy lie she'd told the soldiers really been some dark premonition from her guilty conscience?

"Pa was right, Lady Hawke," said Dallas at her side.

"About what, Dallie" whispered Marian, too tangled in her own thoughts to grasp his meaning.

"About me being safe with ye'." For the first time, he slipped his hand in hers, self-consciously permitting himself to seek that small, childish comfort from her. "He said nae' matter which way the wind blew, ye'd always come out on the winning side. He said ye' were the cleverest lady he knew, an' he was right. Ye' answered those Templars easily, an' then ye' knew my uncle, too." His fingers tightened around hers. "Mah' damned uncle." She stared up at the windmill before them and didn't answer. What could she say that would mean anything to either one of them?

The snow beneath their shoes crunched as they made their way up the path, and the wind that powered the mills by day now sent Marian's cloak and robe swishing about her legs. With one hand she bunched them up at her side, hurrying the last few feet up the path with the basket swinging from her arm. The mill itself was dark, as was the little shingled cottage behind it where the Comte would come to seek haven from his wife.

"Nae' one's home," said Dallas, dropping with disappointment. "They didnae' come here after all."

"That's what they want you to believe, isn't it?" Still clutching her night robe and cloak in one hand, Marian walked around to the back of the cottage, picking her way through the dry stalks and twigs of last years garden. Here the shutters were latched shut over the windows, keeping out the coldest of the wind from the north. But the closed shutters would also keep out inquisitive eyes, and a faint line of candlelight from within glimmered around the edges of the boards. With her fist, Marian thumped against one of the shutters, sending the dry wood rattling against the squeaking hinges. No answer came, and she knocked again, harder.

"It's Marian Hawke," she called, raising her voice to be heard over the wind, "And I've Dallas Vael with me, too, if you'll but open the door to us." She thought she heard scuffling from within, and the low murmur of voices. Then came a scraping at the back door as the latch was lifted from within, and the door cracked open as the Comte peeked cautiously out, the glinting steel of a daggers edge thrust through the opening, as well.

"Comte de Launcet!" With a gasp of anticipation, Dallas lunged toward the door, wriggling like an anxious pup. "Pa's in there, is he nae'? Ah've got tae' see my Pa!"

"Wait, Dallie, please!" With her gaze firmly on the dagger, Marian grabbed the boy by his coat and pulled him back. "We don't mean any harm, Guillaume, and I swear we are alone. We've only come to find news of Gabriel, the boy's-"

"In with you now," growled the Comte, motioning with the dagger as he looked past them and down the path where they'd come, "and be quick about it, too." Dallas pulled free and rushed through the half opened door. Marian followed more slowly, and as she squeezed past the Comte she could smell the stale smell that was the sweat of real fear, and see how he swallowed over and over, his throat shifting convulsively as if he could swallow his anxiety. Then she saw the scene before her, lit by a fading fire and a single lantern set on the floor, and forgot everything else.

Sprawled on his side across a low, narrow bed lay Gabriel Vael. His coat was gone, and so was his waistcoat, and the stark white linen of his tunic's front was red with the blood that the makeshift bandage around his chest had done little to stanch. His face was pale, deathly pale, and Marian would have doubted he lived still, if his hand were not curled around the head of his son, kneeling beside the bed with his face buried against his father's arm. "Templars did it, mistress, the Black Divine rot their souls," said the Comte despondently as he laid his dagger upon the table. The second man, Mekel, sat crouched on the floor close to the fire, a bottle of rum cradled in his lap as he stared blankly into the fire. "Took us straight by surprise. Almost as if they were invited. Mekel and I, we did what we could for Gabe, but you see how it is with him. The best surgeon in the city couldn't do more."

Gabriel groaned. "Then why don't ye' bury me now, Guillaume?" he rasped without opening his eyes. "Save yerself' the trouble later."

"Ha," Marian scoffed. "You've never spared anyone a lick of trouble in your whole life, Gabriel Vael," she said softer than she intended as she knelt beside the bed. "Why should you change now?"

Slowly Gabe opened his eyes, squinting up at her. "So it is ye', Mistress Mari," he said. "Come tae' weep over me, sweet cherry?"

"Nay, not yet, I'm not. You won't give the Templars the satisfaction of dying like this, Gabe, and you know it." She slid her cloak from her shoulders and leaned over him. "Where were you hit?"

"Shoulder. The arrow splintered, Ah' can feel the pieces in there, too." Grimacing, Gabriel tried to ease himself higher onto the pillow. "Sebastian never had much o' an aim with a bow."

"He did better than you."

"A lucky shot." Gabe smiled weakly. "Did he ever figure out Ah' was the one who pegged him that night?"

"I wouldn't know," she said, more defensively than she'd intended. She didn't like talking to him about Sebastian. What they had was too precious and fragile for her to share with anyone just yet, and especially not with Gabe. But Gabriel wasn't listening any longer, not enough to notice. His gaze had turned inward as he wrestled with the pain, and carefully as Marian could, she began to unfasten his bloodstained tunic, that was serving as a bandage.

"Dallie, sweet," she murmured as she leaned over the boy, "you're going to have to move."

"Shove along there, lad, do as the lady says." Gabriel winced as he stretched out to ruffle his son's hair. "She's the one giving the orders now."

"Aye, aye, Pa." Reluctantly the boy slid along the edge of the bed, just beyond Marian's way and still within his father's reach.

Gabe smiled, more of a grimace. "Its nae' so bad takin' orders from a lady, Dallie. Yer' mammy made it an out-an'-out pleasure."

Dallas swallowed. "My mammy wasnae' like that," he mumbled. "She never ordered anyone around."

"Oh, aye, she did," said Gabe gently. "She just had a way with her that made ye' beg tae' do whatever she asked."

Marian looked up, startled by the tenderness in his gruff voice. Maria Vael had been more than his wife; she'd also been the one great love of his life, the one that could never be replaced by any other. It was the same with her, thought Marian sadly as she cut away the last bit of bandage, the same way she felt about Sebastian.

Her lips compressed as she uncovered the ragged wound torn into the flesh and muscle beneath Gabriel's collarbone. She'd never had to retrieve the remnants of a shattered arrow shaft before, and she wasn't quite sure how to do it, but to leave shards of wood and torn linen inside would mean Gabriel's death. He was strong as a horse and nearly as large; she was surprised he remained as lucid as he did, considering how much blood he'd lost. But all too well she knew what happened to strong men when infection and fever filled a wound. Gently she touched him again, and she saw how his whole body went rigid. This was worse than anything she'd ever tended before, far worse, she needed Anders… _Anders!___She hadn't even thought of her fellow mage. _Gods!_

"Where is Anders?" She asked, cocking her head to where both the Comte and Mekel stood by the hearth. "Was he taken with the others?" Glimpsing from each man then back to Gabriel, Marian got the distinct impression she'd been left out of much more than she thought. "Gabe?" She questioned, when –for the first time ever - he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Capt 'N' Isabela took him away about a week ago." Mekel answered behind her, he too, not meeting her eyes. "The Templars were hot on his tail, so Gabe thought it best he be sent away. If the Templars caught him he'd be hung immediately, without a trial fore sure."

"Gabriel did?" Marian growled through clenched teeth, as she swung her head back around to glare at the man in question. "I didn't realize that such decisions were made without first going through me. So then where did the good captain bring serha Anders?" She knew she was being childish, that she needed to focus on patching up Gabriel the best she could. But, it burnt her that her _**friends**_ were now inclined to sneak around under her nose as if she were the enemy.

Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath, his face twisting in pain before he exhaled and began to speak. "Mari… Does it matter? He's safe from the Templars an'-"

"Me? Gabe. Is that what you're going to say, Anders is safe from me?"

"Nay'… Yes… NAY"… Damn it woman." He bellowed attempting to sit up and meet her gaze. "Ye've been so closely linked with Sebastian, Mari, we couldnae' take the chance-"

"That I had turned coat." She whispered, her fury simmering down to outright guilt. What did she expect? If she felt there was a traitor in her midst she'd cast them out too. Clearing her throat she stared down upon Gabe's wound. "Well I'm no Anders. I don't carry his healing prowess, but I think with the health potions I've brought that I can tend this the old fashion way."

"Mari-"

"Don't Gabe." She said, hearing the apology in his voice. She'd only be more of a snake if she allowed him to apologize to her, as guilty as she was. Shuttering the turmoil that swarmed beneath she focused harder on the task before her. Sending for a surgeon was the best course, but the Templars would be watching every one of their houses for just such a request, hoping to be led to Gabriel. His only hope now lay with her, and she prayed she wouldn't fail him.

She glanced at Dallas; his eyes were enormous as he watched her. She lowered her voice for Gabe's ears alone. "Are you sure you want Dallie here at all, Gabriel."

"He's seen worse," said Gabe, more sharply than Marian thought he'd be capable of. "Mah' boy's nae' a coward, Mari."

"I'm not saying he is, Gabriel. But he's still a child, no matter how much you wish otherwise, and he's suffered a great deal on your behalf this night already."

"He'll be fine, Marian. We both will." With a grunt of pain, he pushed himself up on his elbow so that he could smile at Dallas. "Now go ahead, lass. Do yer' worst. That's why ye've come, is it nae'?"

Mekel handed him the bottle of rum. "Here, serha you'll be needing this."

"Thank ye." Gabriel drank deeply from the bottle as Marian tore away the rest of his shirt. Without being asked, Mekel brought her a basin of water, and gently she eased Gabe flat onto his back.

"Would you mind holding the lantern up for me, Comte de Launcet?" she asked, and the man quickly obeyed. She was glad that he didn't seem squeamish; she wished she felt as equally sure of herself. As carefully as she could, she began to search for the shattered pieces of wood, and she felt how Gabriel again stiffened beneath her touch. Only once did he begin to swear, an oath that broke off midway into a groan, and without a word Mekel stepped forward to hold Gabe steady. She realized they'd all seen and done such things before, helping a surgeon with a wounded companion like this, from Dallas on up, including herself. Yet, seemingly, she was the only one that still found this business of war ghastly.

_But this was what Sebastian faced every day as a soldier, a life where the single certainty was death. A life where there'd be little place for love, and less for her._

With an effort, she forced her thoughts back to the task before her. To her relief, only a single splinter lingered in Gabe's wound. It hadn't burrowed nearly as deep as she initially thought and once she'd drawn it free with her fingers she cleaned and dressed the wound as quickly as she could. When she was done, Gabriel lay pale and sweating, his eyes still squeezed shut against the pain but his breathing less ragged. He'd sleep; Gods willing, and she sighed with relief and weariness as she sent a light wave of warming magic from her fingers, directly to where he'd been hit. The little stitch of healing magic she'd learned from Anders. She couldn't fully heal him, not with an injury so grave, but she was certain he, at the very least, would survive.

"Best to let him rest now," Marian said softly to Mekel as she drew the cover over Gabriel's bandaged chest. "But as soon as you can arrange it, you must all leave Kirkwall for Starkhaven, or Antiva it doesn't matter. You can't stay here!"

Gabriel's eyes flew open. "Why?" he croaked.

"Hush, Gabe, don't trouble yourself over-"

"The damned Divine take yer' care, Mari," he said thickly. "Tell me what ye' know."

"Only if you promise to heed me." She knelt beside the bed, her face close to his and her voice urgent. "Your luck's spent, Gabriel. As soon as it's daylight the Divine's Elite will be looking for you, and this time they're not going to stop until they find you."

"Nae' just the Elite," said Gabe. "Sebastian."

Marian sighed unhappily. "Yes, Sebastian. He's sworn he'll search every house and barn near to where you were last night, and I doubt he'll stop there."

"Let him." The rasped words were defiant, a dare. "He'll find nothing at Deadman's Cove except fer' yer' cousin's house."

"The Cove!" Marian gasped with dismay. "But that's where Nova is!"

"An' what of it? Sebastian doesn't want yer' daughter."

"You don't understand, Gabe. You can't possibly know what-" She broke off abruptly before she betrayed herself, fear twisting within her breast. She couldn't let Sebastian find Nova, not like this. Her greatest secret would be torn away the moment he saw their daughter, and when the others saw them together. The resemblance would be far too clear to ignore, and she couldn't do that to Nova.

"I have to go to her now, Gabe, before the Templars find her," said Marian; the sick dread she felt giving her words a frantic urgency. "I have to go bring her home now!"

Gabriel frowned. "Ye' know she's safe with Rana. Ah' know the Arainai are on the Divine's wanted list, but Gods woman nae' one even knows what Rana an' the assassin even look like. She's probably safer with yer' cousin than she'd be in the city."

"That's not it, Gabe, that's not it at all!" Marian cried anxiously collecting the contents of her basket. "Oh, you can't possibly understand!"

"But Ah' can, Mari." He glanced down at Dallas, who was sleeping with his head on the edge of the bed, and the love in his gaze was unmistakable. "How could Ah' nae'? If ye' want Nova back with ye', then ye' shall have her. An' Ah' am coming with ye'."

"Don't be foolish," she said, chiding him. "You're not fit to go anywhere." With a great, determined effort, he pushed himself up to sit on the bed. "Ye' came here fer' me, lass," he said, "an' now Ah' will do the same fer' ye'. If ye' go, ye' willnae' be going alone."

**7-7-7**

"We could take them now, Knight-Commander," whispered corporal Keran. "We two could do it, you and me, sir, no mistake."

"We could, corporal," said Sebastian curtly, "but we won't. We'll wait for Knight-Captain Hunter to comeback with the others."

"But, sir, seeing how that's the one you wounded and all, and we're-"

"I said we'll wait," repeated Sebastian, and the tension in his voice immediately silenced the other man's eagerness, a tension that Sebastian was scarcely aware of. Instead, his whole being was concentrating on peering through the crack in the run-down little cottage's shutter, and watching what passed within.

He hated himself for spying on Marian like this, just as he'd hated trailing her through dark streets, and barren land. Yet he couldn't help it. He wasn't supposed to help it; she was aiding and comforting his enemy, and it didn't matter that the enemy was his brother, as well. He was simply following orders.

As if they were miming actors in a silent play, Marian smiled at Gabriel, touching her fingers to his cheek. Their relationship undeniably close, their fondness for one another unmistakable. Still smiling, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, touching her lips to the place her hand had been, and Sebastian felt his heart crash apart in his chest. He loved her, and this was how she returned his love. This very night he had lavished that love upon her, treating her like the rare treasure he judged her to be, giving her, too his own heart with it.

And still it hadn't been enough. She had listened to him babble on about his past, his family, and his dreams. She had encouraged his kisses and welcomed his caresses, and she'd even whispered that she loved him in return, making him the happiest fool in Thedas. But she hadn't asked for anything beyond that, and he'd been too infatuated to think beyond the haven of his curtained bed. He didn't doubt that she loved him – Mari couldn't lie about something like that – but for her, that love alone didn't seem to be enough. The moment she thought he was asleep, he'd watched her leave like a thief in the night and come here to Gabriel.

To _**Gabe**_.

How wrong he'd been to trust her, and to believe she cared for him, more than for these infernal notions of freedom! No doubt she'd already relayed to Gabe and the others every last word Sebastian had carelessly confided. Hanging in the shadows as he followed behind her with Keran and Hunter, Sebastian had heard his nephew speak of her as The Champion. News that wasn't particularly shocking to him, but why hadn't she felt safe enough with him to confide her status? Adding salt to his wounds, he'd also heard her use their relationship as protection when the two Templar soldiers stopped her. A friend, that was what she'd said he was to her, a friend and nothing else, the same way she'd described her connection to his brother.

"Maker, Knight-Commander, serha, looks like they're leaving!" whispered Keran excitedly. "We could take 'em one at a time, serha, soon as they come through the door!"

"I've made my decision, corporal," said Sebastian firmly. "We shall wait for Hunter with the reinforcements."

"Yes, sir," agreed Keran miserably, until frustration forced him to speak up one more time. "But what if they leave the windmill before Knight-Captain Hunter returns?"

"Then we'll follow," replied Sebastian. "Perhaps they'll lead us to one more of their dens."

"But, serha, I-"

"I am decided, Keran," said Sebastian with the perfect, icy distance of an officer of the Divine, a distance that could cover anything where an enlisted man was concerned. "We wait for reinforcements, and follow these rogues as necessary. But I want them alive, Keran. All of them, especially the woman and the leader, alive."


	18. Chapter 18

_The Rogue's Conquest_

Chapter Eighteen

"My husband is drunk," said Marian to the Templar. "But then, I expect you can see that for yourself." Warily the solider approached the pale, dirty man slumped over the saddle, just in case this bedraggled little family was one more rebel trap. And Marian prayed she wouldn't be forced to kill he and the corporal behind him in cold blood. "I wouldn't get too close to him if I were you," she advised with undisguised disgust. "He was regurgitating his booze in the street when I hauled him from Madame Lusine's house, and I can't promise he won't spew. He's quite rank as is."

To her joy the soldier stepped back, turning his head from the smell that clung to Gabriel. "Madame Lusine's, you say? At this hour of the night?" Marian sighed mournfully and nodded. She had known that Lusine would open another brothel. Had even overseen the Madame's request for the license to do so. Never, though, could Marian have known just how wise it had been for her to okay that very request. Lusine's was the perfect cover. To the soldiers, Marian would seem a poor housewife, dealt a raw deal by the fates when they'd blessed her with her husband, and Dallas' presence, she hoped would only help garner their sympathy… _Gods be kind! _

"Tis no place for a decent woman, I know," she said stiffly, hugging Dallas before her on the saddle, "nor for our boy, either, but I vowed to follow the man for better and worse when I wed him. And who can guess what mischief he'd have fallen into if I didn't come fetch him home?"

"Seven years' service in the Divine's army, if he'd been plucked up by a Templar in Orlais," spoke the other guard, spitting over his shoulder for emphasis. "Better for you if they did, eh, mistress?"

Marian didn't smile. "Officers of the fair Lady Divine are certainly welcome to any service they can get from him at all, that is, of course, if they know the secret of separating him from his rum," she said sharply. "Tis more than I've been able to do in ten-years of marriage."

"Then may the Maker watch over you through your trails, mistress," said the first soldier, tipping his head in a slight bow. He swatted the second's horse on the rump with the flat of his hand. "On with you, now!"

Her heart pounding, Marian forced herself to wait until they had gone beyond a hill before she turned to look at Gabriel. "Are you all right?" she called softly, twisting in the saddle with one arm around Dallas' waist. "You did very well there, you know."

Gabriel raised his head and did his best to smile." An' ye' lie verra' well yerself', Mistress Hawke," he teased, but his speech was labored, and the way he still sat hunched over the horse's neck did little to reassure Marian. By the first gray light of the coming dawn, she could see the deep lines etched on his face, etched by pain, and how his roguish tan seemed to rest uneasily over the pastiness of his cheeks. Pretending to be a man too sick to care what happened to him had come with alarming ease.

Marian drew her horse closer to his. "We should go back," she said, worried. "I should never have agreed to take you with me."

"Ye' could nae' have stopped me, lass," he said hoarsely, and this time he didn't even try to smile, concentrating instead on clutching the horse's reins. "I would nae' have let ye' go otherwise." Bitterly, Marian knew he wouldn't have been able to stop her from doing anything, not as weak as he was. As part of their ruse, his legs had been lashed to the stirrups to keep him from sliding from the saddle, just as she'd liberally doused his coat with rum to make him reek like the drunkard he was supposed to be. Now she was thankful for those same lashings, and the lead that connected his horse to hers. Without them, she wasn't sure Gabriel could have managed the horse on his own.

"She would nae' have done it, Pa," said Dallas boldly, though the way his knuckles were whitened where he clung to the saddle horn showed Marian he had no more illusions than she did herself about his father's strength. "Ah' would nae' have let her go, nae' without ye'."

"True enough, Dallie," agreed Mari softly, tightening her arm around the boy. "Hold tight now. I've no wish to lose you, either." Yet as she urged the two horses onward, Marian wondered how much of her hastily made plan would work. If luck were on her side, she would reach her cousin's house with Gabe and his son before the Templar search parties, and urge Rana and Zevran to escape with both Vael's in the little boat Zevran used for smuggling. It was the only reason she'd agreed to bring Gabriel with her, and she hoped he'd be too weak to protest. In Antiva with his girls, or perhaps they could go to Starkhaven, there he'd have time to recover, out of harm's way, and Dallas might have a chance to be just a boy a bit longer.

The rising sun was already clearing the horizon, and wearily she dug her heels into the horse's sides. She hadn't realized it was so late. They had to reach the Arainai's farmstead before the Templars did, or none of this would matter. And Sebastian. Sebastian would be coming here soon, as well, too soon for her, and her heart grew tight in her chest. Perhaps she and Nova, too, should sail for Antiva with the others, for what hope did she have of any mercy, let alone love, from Sebastian now?

She had never intended to disappear into the night the way she had. She'd thought she'd only be gone a few minutes at the most, so few that he'd never know she'd been away. But now – Now too much had happened for her to be able to explain it away. She had made the choice to go to Gabe when he needed her, a choice she'd make again without hesitation. She owed that much and more to him. He'd paid her way into the Deep Roads after all. He'd pulled her, Carver and Nova from the bowels of Kirkwall, for no other reason than the kindness that had once swelled in his heart. But the choice she had made tonight would be like a rock tossed into a smooth pond, and its consequences would endlessly ripple outward.

It didn't matter that in the warm shelter of his bed, he had said he loved her; he was an officer of the Divine and she was still a mage, his enemy, and helping Gabriel escape had only made it worse. To him she was a rebel, a spy, and a traitor. However could Sebastian love her after that? Tears pulled straight from her heart stung her eyes, tears of longing and loneliness that she struggled to blink back.

"There's the Arainai's farm," said Dallas excitedly, and he twisted around to see his father. "Pa, look, ye' can see the chimneys!" But by the time they reached her cousin's door, Gabriel was slumped over his horse's neck, and it took Zevran, Rana and Marian together to ease him from the saddle to the ground."

"They were ambushed last night by the Templars," explained Marian quickly as she helped Dallas slide from her horse's back.

"When?" asked Zevran roughly, as he slipped his shoulder beneath Gabriel's uninjured arm to lead him inside the house. "He was here last night, and all was well."

"It was later in the evening, near a cave on Deadman's Cove." Her breath was coming in rapid gulps now, and she held her hand to her breast to try to calm herself enough to speak. "Gabriel and Dallas escaped back to Kirkwall with two other men, but all the others were captured and Gabe was shot – you can see that yourself – and though I tried to – I can't heal him… I did what I could-" Her voice began to waver uncontrollably, and she broke off, not wanting to cry in front of them. If she began, she was so afraid she'd never be able to stop. "I tried, you see-" Rana came to rest her hand on Marian's arm, her once angelic face, weathered and filled with sympathy. They were, after all one in the same, if anybody knew Marian's plight it was Reigns. Both women had been saddled with the weight of their collective worlds. Their souls forged in iron, their spirits tamed in war.

"It's all right Mari," said Rana softly, dragging Marian into her arms. "Anders, himself couldn't do more, and were he here he'd be proud to call you his protégé. Zev and I will tend to Gabe and Dallie."

"Not yet, Rana, because… because…" Dumbly Marian shook her head, swallowing her tears as she looked past Rana and down the road they'd come. Before this, before there had been anyone else to depend, she realized how frightened she was.

"'Cause the Templars are comin' back, Lady Arainai," said Dallas, his child's voice curiously unemotional. "Cause they want Pa so bad, they're coming back tae' find him." Searching for confirmation, Rana turned swiftly to look at Marian.

"It's true, all of it," said Marian raggedly. "When they didn't find Gabe last night, they swore they'd search every house on the point until they found him, and they-"

"Nay, mum, not 'they,'" put in Dallas softly. "It was mah' bastard uncle Sebastian."

"_Mama!" _With a wild shriek of delight, Nova raced from the house and into Marian's arms. She had come straight from her bed in her nightgown and her feet bare, and as Marian pressed her face against her daughter's cheek she breathed deeply of the warm, sweet smell of her still-sleepy daughter's skin and hair. The way Nova fit her coltish body against her own, so close Marian could hear and feel her heartbeat, how she nestled her cheeks against Marian's chest and closed her eyes with a sigh of contentment – all of it, thought Marian, was what she'd missed these long weeks they'd been apart, and once again she felt tears welling up. Tears of joy, true, but tears of sorrow as well, regret for missing more of her daughter's life.

"Here, little dove, let me look at you. You'll turn into an icicle, dressed like that." Tenderly Marian wrapped her own cloak around Nova's shoulders, and tried not to see how much she resembled Sebastian. She was glad to see the girl hadn't suffered or pined; if anything, she'd grown taller, and with another pang Marian thought again of how three or four weeks in the life of her daughter could seem like an eternity. Nova smiled, her face still plump with sleep, and Marian touched the spot in her grin where there had last been a gap. "That new tooth's come at last," said Marian. "You're quite done with your baby teeth, aren't you?"

Proudly Nova stretched her smile to an over-wide grin. "That's because I'm not a baby any longer," she said, her sharp features serious. "I'm almost twelve, Mama. Surely you haven't forgotten that." Her grin expanded even further, to include Dallas, standing uncertainly to one side of Rana. "I'll be twelve in March, Dallie, a whole exact year before you."

"Not that he cares, either," said Marian, an unspoken warning in her glance that made Nova instantly quiet. "Dallas doesn't need your chattering this morning, and neither do I. Now come, I want you dressed fast as you can. Hurry, lass, be quick!" Nova's bare feet danced across the frozen ground as she rushed ahead of Marian and through the kitchen door.

"We're going back to Kirkwall, Mama? You're really, truly going to take me home?"

"Nay, little lass, she's nae'," growled Gabriel, and Nova scuttled back behind Marian. Gabriel sat on the bench before the fire, a tankard full of rum laced coffee steaming in his hand. His face was ashen and he scowled with fatigue and pain, his beard and long chestnut hair making him even more forbidding. "Ye'll clear off, aye, but nae' fer' Kirkwall."

"And why not?" demanded Marian. "Where else would we go Gabe? Kirkwall's our home and she needs _**me**_, her Viscountess. I cannot abandon-"

"She used tae' be mah' home, too, once." Gabriel coughed, a strained bark that sent the coffee dashing back and forth in the tankard. "But think on what ye've done, Marian. If Dallas an' I cannae' go back, well then, neither can ye' an' yer' daughter."

"But the city-"

"Carver controls the city lass, an' he has well served Kirkwall since ye' stepped away. He's nary a fool boy any longer, sweet cherry. He will hold the reins in yer' absence an' do ye' proud if ye'd' but let him."

"He's right, Mari," said Rana gruffly. "As soon as Gabriel, here finishes his toxic brew, we'll be heading off upriver. You have to join us, you and your pretty dove both."

Marian stared between the Hero of Ferelden and Master Gabriel Vael, stunned that they'd actually suggest what she'd only thought on a whim.

"It's one thing for Gabe to go. What else can he do? But for me to leave Kirkwall now! War has been called for, and though I trust Carver with the city, how can I justify saddling him with the grizzly burden. And the Rose, what of my tavern? I can't, and won't abandon everything I know simply because you say so. I have guests that depend on me, customers who expect me to be there."

Gabriel glanced up at her sideways. "The way Ah've' heard it, about the only customers ye've' been entertainin' lately, have been wearin' pearl, white armor."

Marian gasped indignantly. "That's not fair, Gabe," she snapped. "I've been forced to quarter Templar soldiers under my roof, just like everyone else in Kirkwall, and if you believe that-"

"Do nae' fan yer' feathers of bravado at me, Marian Hawke," said Gabriel, interrupting her. "All Ah' am sayin' is that ye'll' have tae' decide whether tae' throw yer' lot in with me now, or trust yerself' an' yer' daughter tae' the hands o' my bastard o' a brother. Yer' choice, sweet… Me, or Sebastian."

Marian went very still, her next words of protest dying on her lips. On the surface, and for the sake of the others here in the kitchen, Gabriel was merely telling her Kirkwall was too dangerous a place for her to remain, and that she and Nova should consider fleeing in Zevran's boat, as well. But Gabriel was offering her more than advice alone, and both of them knew it. He'd always teased her about what a good wife she'd make and how well they'd suit one another, the widow and the widower, the mage Viscountess and the rebel ex-Andrasten, joining households. Yet he'd never meant it the way he did now. Now he was actually asking her, Marian Hawke, to marry him.

He looped his uninjured arm around his son, standing beside him. "Ah' know which way Dallas would want ye' tae' go, Mari," he said. "Mighty fond he is o' ye', an' Miss Nova, too. Isn't that right, laddie? An' there's nothing Aria an' Alexa would like better than havin' another lass about tae' play with." For the sake of their children – that was his motive, then, for asking. And it wasn't such a bad one, either, not by half. A widower left with three young children needed someone he could trust to be a mother, as well as a wife. She was fond of Dallas, too, and though she didn't know the girls as well, she was certain she could come to care for them. She loved children, she always had, and with Gabriel there'd be a good chance she'd bear more of her own. His wife, Maria, had been swollen with child five times during the eight years they'd been married.

There'd be other advantages, excellent ones, too, to such a marriage. Before they'd been murdered, the Vael's had been one of the wealthiest and most influential families in all of Thedas, and Marian didn't doubt that what was left of the Vael's now, would be so again. He wouldn't be marrying her solely with an eye towards her value in gold. As a nobleman Gabriel was known as a fair master, sober and evenhanded, and she was sure he'd be the same as a husband. He was considered handsome, too, and if he wasn't lighthearted as he'd once been, well, then, what man in his prime was?

He wasn't even pretending to love her, not the way he'd loved Maria. Nor would Marian have to pretend, either, not for a second time with a second husband she respected but would never love.

Not the way she would always love Sebastian…

Left waiting too long for her to answer, Gabriel shifted uneasily on the bench, wincing with the pain.

"It's nae' such a hard question, lass," he said, his voice sinking down once again to a low growl. "After last night. Ah'd' have thought yer' mind was bonnie well made up." She knew Gabriel was referring to the way she'd chosen to come to his aid, but still her cheeks flushed with guilt. She couldn't help remembering how, in that same last night, she and Sebastian had made love, too.

And it had been love, she thought sadly. The lopsided paper heart that Sebastian had sent her, the red ribbons he'd wrapped around her hands in the snow-filled garden while his lips were warm upon hers, the smile that had lit his eyes with tenderness when his fingers brushed over her cheek and the fire that had burned in her blood with his caresses – oh, aye, it had been love, and even if it was done, she'd never forget it.

Or Sebastian.

Rana cleared her throat impatiently. "Not a hard question, but one that's keeping us all too long in this place. The tide's due to turn on the hour, and if we're not sailing with it, we might as well go welcome the Templar scum on the road and save them the trouble of finding us here."

"I'm sorry, Rana, I didn't mean to keep you," murmured Marian swiftly, avoiding Gabriel's eyes. "Come, Nova, we must get you dressed. Hurry now, child, hurry!" Grateful for the excuse to flee, Marian hustled the girl before her up the winding stairs and to the back bedchamber where she'd slept. The room had been – and likely still was- a wish her cousin and Zevran both had designed. A room for a child of their very own, but Rana's warden DNA had other plans. Instead of children, Rana had only ever been given small hopes and quick miscarriages.

Why Rana couldn't seem to carry, but Merrill could even with Carver's warden genetics, was a mystery. Perhaps the killing blow she'd taken on the arch demon had ingrained the taint to the quick, or was it luck that had struck Carver? No one knew. And though the floor of the ghost child's room was swept and the blankets and sheets on the low bed were patched and clean, there was still a mournful emptiness to the room, a sense that the rightful owner would never show. Even Lady – Nova's oldest doll, and last tether to her childhood – propped up regally in her best crimson gown against the pillows, could do little to dispel the sadness of the room, and Marian felt a pang of guilt and sympathy for her dear cousin. The woman, a mage no less, had taken the taint into her veins to save the world, and in turn for the safety of strangers, she had forfeited her chance at the babies she'd always dreamed.

Breathing deep, and setting her jaw into a harsh line, Marian quieted the guilt. Briskly she began untying the strings of Nova's nightgown. "Wear your emerald robe, you know the one uncle Varric had commissioned for you," Marian said, "and because it's so cold I want you to wear your heaviest cloak, the gold one if you can find it quickly enough. We don't have time to waste."

"Yes, Mama." Nova smiled, standing uncharacteristically still while Marian wrestled with the last knot on her nightdress, blissfully content to bask in her mother's attention. Marian tore at the last stubborn knot.

"Come along now, find the cloak. We'll have aunt Rana send your things later. There isn't time to pack now." Nova scampered across the bed, Marian's cloak still billowing around her.

"We don't have to pack," she said, hopping off the side of the bed. She knelt beside her traveling trunk and flipped open the lid. "Everything's ready." Marian followed her around the bed, frowning.

"I thought aunt Rana said you could put your things in the drawer."

"Oh, she did," said Nova, carefully easing the green gown from the neat stacks of folded clothing. "But I wouldn't do it. I wanted to be ready, you see, for when you came to take me home. I didn't want to have to waste a single minute packing." She sat back on her heels and looked up at Marian, her smile wobbling. "You said it wouldn't be for long, Mama, and every day I looked for you to come. And today you did."

"Oh, dove." Marian bent down and hugged her close. "I wanted to, but it wasn't safe."

With a loud sniff, Nova pushed back, rocking on her heels to search Marian's face.

"And it is now?" Marian nodded, though the lie weighed heavily on her conscience. If anything, Nova would be in more danger now than before, and it was going to take considerable planning each day to keep her from Sebastian's sight. With a sigh, she smoothed Nova's hair.

"I've missed my girl too much to be apart from her any longer," she said softly, and that much, at least was achingly true. "You're coming home with me, as soon as you're dressed."

"Good!" Nova wriggled free, shrugging off Marian's cloak than her nightgown, pulling up the green gown and swirling the cloak about her shoulders. Marian reached out to help her, steering her flailing arms into the sleeves, and the girl's muffled voice came from somewhere inside the fabric. "I didn't want to go with Dallas Vael anyway."

"I thought you liked Dallas," said Marian, tugging the hood of Nova's cloak down, allowing her head to pop forward.

"I used to," said Nova as she shoved her hair back from her face. "But he's too serious now."

"He has a great deal to be serious about," chided Marian, thinking how much the boy had seen and suffered in just this night alone. "Remember, he has no mother to watch after him, or his sisters."

"He has a father," said Nova wistfully, "just like I have you. You're _**my **_mother."

"And you're _**my**_ daughter. Not that there's ever been any question, has there? Come now, hold still so I can lace you up." Swiftly Marian threaded the laces through the gown's eyelets, thinking how difficult it would be to convince Nova to accept Gabe's children as siblings. With Lloyd's early departure from the world, the bond between her and Nova had been closer than that between most mothers and their children. Each had been, quite simply, all the other truly had. "There now," said Marian, giving Nova a little pat. "I'll braid your hair more neatly later. There's not time now. Fetch your shoes while I latch the trunk."

"And Lady," said Nova leaning over the bed to retrieve her. "We mustn't forget Lady."

"Gods, no." Marian gasped, tying her cloak tight. "Though Lady would likely fare much better with the Templars than we would. She'd make them all bow down and call her 'Your Grace.'"

Nova laughed, shoving her feet into her shoes without bothering to unbuckle them, so that the heels collapsed. Marian sighed with exasperation. "No wonder you wear holes in the heels of all your stockings," she said as she bent down to fasten the shoes properly. "You'll have ones in your feet to match if you keep to such sloppy habits." The tongue of the second buckle kept slipping away from the hole as Marian struggled with it, and the leather of the shoes was stiff with mud, making her task all the harder. "Gods, Nova," she scolded, "I've never seen such a mess. You took such care with your other things that I can't imagine why-"

"Who's Sebastian?"

"Who's Sebastian?" repeated Marian, too, quickly, and she felt her face grow warm as she busied herself with the shoe buckle. At last the buckle slipped into place, and she stood, dusting dried mud from her hands. "Who's Sebastian, you ask?"

"Yes, Sebastian," said Nova, her face solemn and anxious as she gazed at Marian. It was clear to Marian that Nova could tell her mother wasn't telling her the whole truth and that the fact worried the girl. "Serha Vael said that was your choice. Him or Sebastian." It was becoming abundantly clear to Marian that she'd have to start treating her daughter as the young woman she was becoming, and not the child she wished her to be.

"Your ears are quick, dove, aren't they? Marian sighed uneasily, considering all the layers of meaning in Gabe's seemingly simple question. "Sebastian Vael is an officer in the Divine's army, a Knight-Commander, and he and some of his men are quartered at The Rose. He's in the green chamber, to the front."

"A white-armored officer?" Nova's dark brows puckered with confusion as she hugged Lady more tightly. "But Serha Vael said he was his brother. They have the same last name. So how can he be a Templar, too? And how could you have chosen him? Chosen him for what?"

"Serha Vael was exaggerating, that was all," said Marian carefully, fastening the diamond clasp on Nova's cloak beneath her chin. "I didn't really have to make a choice between him or his brother. And though Sebastian Vael has chosen to serve with the Orleasian Templars, he was born in Starkhaven, not far at all from our own Kirkwall. I suppose that makes him as close to being a Kirkwaller as us."

"It makes him a traitor to his own people," declared Nova fervently, her face twisted in disgust, as if she'd just had a shot of lemon juice. "And worse than any Templar ever could be."

"Even if he believes what he's doing is right? If he believes that he's here to protect us, and not to harm us?"

Nova frowned, her eyes accusing. "You sound like a Templar Mama, instead of the mage they've came to suppress."

Sharply Marian returned the frown. "And you, my love, sound like a girl who listens at doorways, to conversations she doesn't quite yet understand."

"But, Mama, aunt Rana and uncle Z say-"

"I don't care what your aunt and uncle say," said Marian firmly. "Nothing, and no one, is as simple as they seem, Nova. How can we expect compassion, if we-"

"In return can't give it ourselves. I know, I know, Mama." Nova sighed rolling her pretty eyes in contempt.

"You'd do well to remember it girl. Now come on, help me take your trunk down the stairs." Together they bumped the trunk down the winding stairs and into the kitchen. Rana rushed to help them, taking Nova's place.

"Oh, here you are finally, Mar!" she said breathlessly. "Zevran and Gabriel have already gone down to the water. By the Gods, Zevran can be worse than an arch demon when it comes to the tides. Well, the tides and his…pleasures." She smiled sheepishly, fluttering her long, sweeping lashes. "But don't worry dear cousin, we can still catch them. You'll see! Between us we'll manage this trunk over the dunes. We, the Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Kirkwall don't need no stinking men."

Marian let her end of the trunk drop with a thump to the floor, meeting her cousin's curious gaze. "You're kind to offer, Reigns, but Nova and I won't be sailing with you guys today. I'll be riding back to Kirkwall as soon as I've seen you, Zevran and Gabriel safely off.

Now Rana let her side of the trunk fall, as well. "Marian Hawke, do you honestly think that's wise?" She said, her voice a low hush. "I mean if you've no care for your safety, fine, but perhaps if you let him take Nova up to Antiva with the other children-"

"No!" said Marian, more sharply than she'd intended, sharply enough that Rana drew back with a stiff, stricken look on her face.

Immediately, Marian regretted it. With a weary sigh, she reached for her daughter, looping her arms protectively around Nova's shoulders. "Oh, Rana," she began. "It's not that I don't appreciate what you've done for Nova and for me, because I do. Truly. And I know the dangers, too, even without Gabriel to point them out to me. But it seems now there's danger everywhere, and I might as well keep Nova with me as send her away."

"Very well, Mari. You're her mother after all, you'll do what's best for her." Rana's smile was tight, and her gaze lingered longingly on Nova. "That's how it should be. But we'll miss the little lamb, Zevran and I both." Impulsively Nova eased free of Marian and ran to hug her aunt. Rana colored with pleasure, even as sadness lanced through her violet orbs. "Oh, little lamb, when your uncle and I comeback from Antiva you must come stay with us once again," she said. "Those worthless cats in the barn will welcome you too. They've never eaten so grand as when you've been here. But go on now, back to your mother, where you belong."

"Thank you, Rana, for everything," said Marian softly as Nova slipped her hand back into Marian's. "Though I've decided not to go with Gabe, I'd like to wish him, Dallas and of course Zevran good bye. Do you think we'll be too late?"

Rana shook her head. "Nay, Mar, Zevran would cut off his own legs before he left me behind. We need to hurry. Hopefully you haven't gotten too soft in that fine office of yours cousin. We'll need to go out the kitchen and past the stone wall, then over the dunes." Her eyes gleamed with challenge. "And one never knows when they'll have to set a few mighty Templars ablaze."

"Oh, Reigns don't you worry about me. You need to worry more about what being a dutiful housewife has done to the Warden-Commander." Marian smiled, tossing her cousin a devilish wink of her own. She missed these jousts between her and Rana, since the Templars had arrived their weekly visits had been non-existent. It was nice to have her cousin in her life, even if it was… temporary.

They walked quickly along Rana's neatly swept garden path, the wind whipping their skirts around their legs. They slowed as they trudged up through the whipping grass and toward the crest of the dunes. There was no path here – a smuggler like Zevran had no wish to make the way easier for others who might follow – and the loose sand of the dunes was almost like drifts of snow, pulling at their shoes with every step. They paused at the top to catch their breath. The new day was bright, the sky cloudless, and the long sweep of the bay and ocean beyond mirrored more deeply the blue overhead. With high tide the beach was only a narrow band, and there, just below the sandy hill she, Rana and Nova stood upon – stood the men – Zevran, Gabriel, Dallas, and the two men from the neighboring farm who served as Zevran's crew – Gathered around the small, smuggling boat drawn up on the sand, it's mast already unfurled and bellowing in the mornings chill wind.

With a joyful whoop, Nova jumped and bounced down the steep dune, poor Lady swinging at her side by one jointed arm. In unison the men turned at the sound, and Gabriel came forward to meet them as Marian and Rana descended the dune more carefully. "Ah' was a bit afraid ye' would nae' come," he said gruffly. They were shielded from view of Zevran and the other men by an outcropping of stones, but still he stopped a few steps away from Marian and Nova, holding his hat in one hand, and self-consciously he swiped the other across his hair, as if that would have much effect against the wind that blew from the water.

"I'm going to check if Zevran needs my help," said Rana with an uncertain, almost awkward hitch to her usually assertive tone. With a small squeeze to Marian's shoulder, and an apologetic shine to her violet eyes directed at Gabriel, she sashayed away, around the rocky curtain, leaving Marian with only Nova… and of course Gabriel. _Most awkward conversation of your life, coming right up! Beauty…_

"Zevran's men wanted tae' shove off, but Zevran an' Ah' said tae' give ye', Rana an' the lass another moment. Cannae' rush the ladies, Zevran said."

"Oh, Gabriel," said Marian miserably. "I only came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mari?" he asked uncertainly, tipping his head to look at her. He stood bent awkwardly to one side, favoring his wounded shoulder, but at least the wind had brought more color to his cheeks. "Ye' willnae' be comin' with me?"

"I – we – can't," Marian stumbled, her hand resting on Nova's shoulder to include her, and lessen the sting of her rejection. She didn't want to hurt him, even if it seemed inevitable. She would spare him the truth; that because she'd married once without love, she'd never do it again. "Our place, for now is here in Kirkwall."

"Ah, Kirkwall." He stared down at his hat. "Ah' know Ah've' nae' as much tae' offer ye' as once Ah' might have, Mari, but Ah'd' hoped that-"

"It's not you, Gabe, and it's not what you may or may not have to offer," she said quickly. "But to begin such a – such a venture in these times, when so much in both our lives is unsettled, seems to me an unwise course." _Ah, ever the pristine diplomat Marian Hawke…_

"Unwise, ye' say. Unsettled," he repeated bitterly. He twirled his hat on one finger, still looking at it rather than at her. "Ah' thought we were better friends then that, Mistress Hawke. How long did it take ye' tae' learn that pretty piece of diplomatic bullshit, eh?"

Marian reached across the distance between them, laying her hand gently on his wind-whipped cheek. "It's not bullshit, Gabe. It's the truth, and I believe-" But what she believed was never said. Instead came the snuffling sound of a laboring horse, the jingling of a harness, and then, outlined against the sky, rose Sebastian, riding his black stallion. On either side of him stood soldiers, soldiers frozen in place, with their bows trained on Gabriel, Marian and Nova, who clung in terror to her mother's robe.

**7-7-7**

Without a word, Sebastian dismounted, his face a hard-edged mask that hid the keen blow of the pain he felt now. To find them here together on this lonely beach, Marian and his brother, her hand resting so tenderly on his cheek as they prepared to flee, was the cruelest joke of his life. As he walked down the dune toward them, his boot heels sliding deep into the sand, he told himself he shouldn't be surprised. He'd warned her himself that he'd be here today with a search party, and it was perfectly natural that she in turn would warn Gabriel.

_Perfectly, hideously natural_.

He could see nothing beyond her face, her rosy lips parted so slightly with surprise, crimson strands of her hair dancing unchecked in the wind across her face, everything frozen by surprise and fear. Maker, he didn't want to frighten her. No matter what she'd done to him, how she'd betrayed him, he hadn't wanted that. Fool that he was, he loved her still. Yet as he came to stand before her now, his mouth was as dry as the sand beneath his feet, and he hadn't the faintest idea what to say. He brought his heels together, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "Ma'am," he said at last. "I wish you a good morning."

"Good mornin'?" repeated Gabriel, standing forgotten beside Marian. He laughed – a harsh, apathetic sound that echoed against the rocks. "The Black Void take yer' good- mornin'. Sebastian! It's neary' a wonder Marian Hawke will nae' have me. How could she, with yer daughter hanging on tae' the waist o' her robe? Ah'd' never noticed the likeness before, but now, tae' see ye' all together, Ah'd' be a blind fool tae' miss it."

Sebastian frowned, wondering if at last his brother had lost his mind completely. Impatiently his gaze flicked down to the girl that clung to Marian, and he felt the bottom drop from his heart.

His hair, his eyes, his mouth.

His daughter…


	19. Chapter 19

The Rogue's Conquest

_Chapter Nineteen_

His _**daughter**__._

Swiftly Sebastian looked back to Marian. The color had bleached from her face, her eyes silently begging him, and with the smallest motion of her chin she nodded. That, and no more. Not that he needed even that much confirmation. The girl's face, so closely echoing his own, was proof enough. In a moment's time, so many questions had been answered; the reason Marian had married so quickly, how she could have married a man she hadn't loved, her insistence on keeping their shared past secret, and why she'd taken such care to keep her daughter from his sight.

Now, though one question loomed even larger between them. He could understand perfectly why she'd clouded the facts of the little lass's conception when she was married to Lloyd and he himself was in Orlais. But once he came to Kirkwall, once he told her he loved her, why then hadn't she told him about her daughter? No, not her daughter. He couldn't call the girl that any longer. _**Their **_daughter. Unless she'd never meant to tell him. Unless she was so tangled in the mage resistance that she would have had to flee with Gabriel and leave him behind forever.

_**Damnation**_, why couldn't he think straight?

**7-7-7**

Marian watched, waited and silently prayed with all her heart that he'd understand. For nearly twelve years she'd both imagined and dreaded this moment, playing it through in her mind with a thousand different variations. In some of them Sebastian was angry, in others severe but forgiving. In her favorite ones he was overjoyed to discover he had a daughter, nearly as happy as Nova was to meet her father, and as in all the best stories, they'd all live together happily ever after. But not once had Marian dreamed they'd be standing on a beach, on a blindingly bright winter morning with half-dozen Templar bows trained upon them; nor had she ever pictured the expression that was now on Sebastian's face. Or, more precisely, the expression that wasn't there. _His officer's face_, she thought miserably, the one she knew he used to shut out the world. _But not me,_ she prayed. _Even after all that has gone wrong between us, please, please don't let him reject me now, not me and not Nova. Dear Gods, how will I find the strength to bear it if he scorns me now?_

**7-7-7**

Sebastian turned around, squinting up at the men still lined along the top of the dune. "You, there," he called. " Corporal Keran, you stay with my horse. The rest of you are to join Knight-Captain Hunter's men and continue your search. I'll deal with these people myself and join you directly. He sensed their reluctance, saw it in how slowly they lowered their bows and how they hung back, waiting to see what would happen next. Damn them all, they were questioning his orders for a chance to ogle his private business. "Did I not make myself clear?" he roared. "You, there, Naylor. Did I order you to stand there gaping like an overworked whore?"

"No, sir," said the startled Naylor, snapping to attention. "No gaping like a whore, Knight-Commander."

"Very well. Then I have made myself clear enough?" The agreement rippled raggedly through the men and women, but at least now they moved on as they'd been ordered, and with a sigh Sebastian bent down to make himself nearer to his daughter's height. She was a pretty enough little lass, he'd grant her that, and with those great turquoise eyes, she was a Vael through and through. In a few years more she'd have the men flocking around her, he had no doubts. Being her father wouldn't be easy. He frowned at the prospect, and in response the set of the girl's mouth grew more stubborn still.

What in the Black Void did one say to a child, anyway? "What's your name, lass?" he asked gruffly. Well, it was a start, he couldn't go wrong with such a simple question.

"Nova Hawke." He caught the slight shuffle behind the girl as Marian prodded her into a more polite answer. "Nova Hawke, _**Messere**_."

"Ah. Nova." He cleared his throat self-consciously. He might not know a damn thing about children, but he knew a rebel the instant he saw one. "That's a pretty name for a pretty lass." The hostility in her swirling turquoise, to grey eyes didn't waver though, not a fraction. _Well_, he thought grudgingly, that was her Vael blood, too, as much as the brightness in her eyes. She wouldn't back down, but neither would he. She was a mage, too, though. That was Marian's doing, where the gray flecks in her eyes came from. And the irony that his own flesh and blood was a mage wasn't lost to him.

"Serha Vael said I'm your daughter," she said. "But he's wrong. Messere. You're not my father. My father's dead." Maker, she wasn't going to grant him even an inch.

"Messere Hawke, you mean." Desperately he looked to Marian for help, but all she granted him was a silent back and forth shake of her head. All right, then, he wouldn't pursue their newfound relationship. Even if the girl were having only half the trouble he was in accepting it, she'd have an excellent excuse for her behavior. "That's a pretty doll you have," he said, grasping at the obvious like a drowning man. "What's her name?"

Nova put both arms around the doll, squeezing it tight against her chest, almost daring Sebastian to try to take her. "Her name is Lady. Messere."

Sebastian smiled, wondering what had happened to all his much-boasted charm with the fairer sex. "Lady, is it? What is she the lady of?"

"Her name is Lady, messere," she said again, sharply, as if he weren't quite bright. "You're Sebastian, aren't you, messere?"

"Why, yes, I am." His smile widened, for he was pleased she'd volunteered something at last. "My name's Sebastian Vael. Your mama must have spoken of me, then."

"Yes, messere, she has," Nova said quickly. "I know all about you. You're a Templar and a damned traitor to your people, and you're certainly not my father and never will be."

"_**Nova!**_" cried Marian. "I've never said such things, as you know perfectly well!"

But beside her, Gabriel laughed.

"The little lass has ye' pegged right, Sebastian, does she nae'?" Sebastian rose, thankful for the chance to consider his brother, instead of his daughter. Marian had told him he'd be surprised by the change in Gabe, and she'd been right. Granted, more than a decade had passed since he saw him last, but the time had not passed easily for Gabriel. It wasn't just the first streaks of white that silvered his bronze mane, or how he'd grown heavier and broader than the brash young Lord that Sebastian remembered. It was more in the way his eyes had grown somehow empty, as if part of his soul had faded away. Even as Gabriel laughed, there was a sense of sorrow and loneliness that lingered around him, a weight that would never lighten. The death of Gabriel's wife had done this to him, or so Marian had said.

For the first time in his life, Sebastian could understand such grief. If he lost Marian now, if she left him, as it seemed she wished to do, then he wasn't sure how he'd be able to cope with the rest of his life without her. But it would be her choice. He would give that to her. At least this time he knew better than to try to force her against her will. To be strong when others were weak, to protect all that he loved and cherished most: that was what his grandfather had told him long ago, and that was what he'd believed he was doing when he came here to Kirkwall with the army. But maybe he'd been going about it all wrong. Maybe there was a better, more honorable path before him, if he'd only dare to take it.

Slowly he smiled at Gabriel, acutely aware of both the distance that lay between them and the closeness of the bond that still, despite the odds, seemed to remain. "Miss Nova can call me a traitor all she wishes," he said, falling into their old pattern of bantering, surprised how his brogue so naturally appeared. "Tis bound tae' be more honorable than whatever she'd call ye'. Ah' thought last night Ah' was rid O' ye' forever."

"Ha! Nae' so easy as that." Gabriel waved his hand over his wounded shoulder, and couldn't quite suppress the little wince of pain that the motion caused him. "Ye' always did pull yer' aim tae' the left."

"Tae' the right, ye' mean. Ye're the one who shoots wide tae' the left." Sebastian had seen the seriousness of Gabe's wound through the crack he'd spied through, and knew how closely he'd come to killing him. Enemy or not, he was fervently thankful now that he hadn't succeeded. "At least ye' did at The Green Dales, did ye' nae'?"

Acknowledgement gleamed in Gabriel's eyes. "So it was ye', eh? Ah' should have guessed nae' other officer would be fool enough tae' ride out there alone."

"Seein' as how The Green Dales is said tae' be Vael land, Ah' could say much the same o' ye', brother. Instead Ah'll' say we're even."

"Even?" repeated Gabriel with surprise. "The void we are!"

"The void we're nae," said Sebastian. "Ye' know, brother, ye' look like some raggedy-arse old blacksmith with that beard."

With a snort, Gabriel squashed his hat back onto his head. "Ah' willnae' say what ye' look like, Lord High Officer Jackarse o' The Lady Divine's bleedin' royal elite circus. Least Ah' willnae' say it before the lassies." He tried to smile, but managed only to twist his mouth to one side in a lopsided grimace. "So follow yer' orders, wee brother. Do what ye've come here tae' do. Ye've' caught me fair an' square, an' Ah'am ready tae' be marched in irons back tae' the city."

"Ah' haven't caught anyone, nae' yet," said Sebastian evenly. "Mah' orders are tae' capture the leader o' the rebels in these parts. But Ah' do believe Ah've' been mistaken. The man Ah' seek is a bold, fearsome, black-hearted rogue. Ye' look too feeble an' weak tae' walk ten paces, let alone lead half the rebel raids this man's claimed. Yes, Ah' must have been mistaken." From the corner of his eye, he watched Marian's eyes narrow in disbelief, heard her sharp gasp.

"Sebastian, what are you doing?"

He looked out at the ocean, unable to meet her eye. What was he doing? He was letting Gabriel escape to Antiva… To Starkhaven even. Any one of them could see that. His orders had been to put an end to the rebel raids, and to his mind that could be accomplished just as easily by sending Gabe away as by capturing him. But that wasn't all. Though she might not realize it, he was giving Marian her freedom, too, the freedom to decide her own destiny. He'd learn soon enough whether he'd have a place in the rest of her life or not.

**7-7-7**

"I'm following my orders, Lady Hawke," he said, his voice clipped, every hint of the jovial brogue gone. "Nothing more."

"No, you're not," she shot back, disbelief fading into desperation, as he still didn't look her way. She knew how important the Templar order was to him, how much it's righteousness and sense of honor, however misguided, was a part of his life. Could he really be so willing to put all that in jeopardy, even for Gabriel's sake? "You're not following your orders at all. By the Gods, Sebastian, what will happen to you if you do this?"

Impatiently Gabriel stepped forward, his long brown hair tossing in the wind. "Listen here, Sebastian. Ah' donnae' expect any favors like this from ye', an' Ah' donnae' want 'em."

"What makes ye' think this is a favor, ye' great fool?" demanded Sebastian, slicing his hand through the air before Gabriel's face. "Ah'd call it settlin' the score 'tween us, fer' once and fer' all. Ah'll admit tae' being mistaken about ye' here today, if ye' in turn agree tae' leave this city an' nae' return."

But Gabriel shook his head fiercely. "Ah' cannae' swear tae' that, Sebastian. Ye' could nae' either, in the same place, an' Ah'-"

"Halt right there!" shouted Dallas. He stood at the edge of the rock face, his feet widespread, elbows locked and both hands gripping tight to steady the bow he held trained on Sebastian. "Ye' just stop, right there!"

Gabriel swore under his breath. "What in the black void do ye' think ye're' doin', fella?"

Dallas tossed the hair back from his eyes, but the bow never wavered. "He nearly killed ye', Pa," he shouted, his voice going shrill with excitement and emotion. "Ah'am goin' tae' make sure he willnae' have another chance tae' try."

Gabriel rumbled with anger. "That's a damned fool thing tae' do, Dallie."

"Why, Pa? Ye' said yerself' the only good that comes from whitecoats comes from killin' them." Dallas raised his head defiantly, his hand drawing back the bow's string so harshly it's limbs hissed disapprovingly. "Better him than ye', anyways."

"What, an' let that one shot of yers' bring every blessed one o' his men runnin' back here tae' pepper ye' with arrows fer' yer' trouble?" demanded Gabriel. "Use the smarts Ah've taught ye', lad, nae' the bow."

"Dallas, please listen to your father!" cried Marian, her anguish real as she shoved Nova behind her. She didn't doubt that the boy was a capable shot; that was exactly what his father had trained him to do so well. Not only would Sebastian die, and her hopes and happiness with him, but Dallas, too, would suffer the rest of his own life for this one, impulsive action. "You can't do this! Look at him! Sebastian is your uncle, your kin! You cannot kill him, Dallas!" She saw how the strain on the bows limbs wavered, how the arrowhead trembled, the bright sun glancing off the sharp, silvery steel, and saw, too, how Dallas swallowed hard, swallowing his uncertainties.

"Ah' donnae' care, Mistress Hawke," he said, but the belligerence had slipped from his words. "Ah' am nae' allowed tae'. He's nae' mah' uncle anymore. He's a Templar, an' he's the enemy." Swiftly Marian glanced at Gabriel, who'd gone very still. Could he see what his bitterness, his hatred, had done to his son?

It was Sebastian who spoke first. "Ye're right, Dallas," he said, with a calmness that stunned Marian. "Ah' am a Templar, an' yer' enemy. If ye' plug me now, Ah'll die honorably, a good soldier's death. What more could Ah' want? But ye' willnae', nae' at all. It willnae' matter one bit tae' the Knight-Vigilant that ye're' a boy. He'll see ye' tried an' hanged as a traitor an' a murder anyway, an' leave yer' body in the Gallows tae' rot as an example. Do ye' truly think that yer' Pa wants that?" It seemed to Marian that Gabriel had aged another five years in the same number of minutes, his face haggard and pale.

"Listen to your uncle, muchacho!" _young man,_ Zevran called, coming toward them from where he'd been waiting on the beach. "Taking his life, it's not worth yours." The bow wavered, uncertainty and questions written on Dallas' face as he leveled Zevran with confusion. "But, uncle Z," he said plaintively. "Ye' _said_…"

"Come, Dallie, an' give me the bow," interrupted Gabriel, catching his sons eyes once more, holding out his hand as he began walking toward the boy, one slow, cautious step at a time. "Just give me the bow." Closer he came, and finally Dallas let his elbows droop, and the bow fell to the packed sand with a heavy, harmless thud. His face crumpled with the tears he could no longer hold back, and he wheeled around toward the water to hide what Marian knew he perceived as shameful weakness. When Gabriel rested his arm across Dallas' shoulders, the boy roughly shrugged himself free. But when Gabriel tried a second time, Dallas slumped against him, his arms around his father and his face buried against his side. "The lad an' Ah' will be clearing off now," said Gabe heavily. "If our boats captain will still take us, that is."

"Of course, I've waited this long, hermano, _brother_, leaving now without you would simply be anti-climatic… and I do so enjoy a good climax." Zevran winked mischievously, padding back to his waiting boat.

"Ye' will leave Kirkwall then?" asked Sebastian, purposefully neutral. Not taking his eyes from Gabriel.

"Aye. Though Ah'll nae' swear tae' more than that." The two men looked hard at one another, a wealth of feeling unspoken between them.

Sebastian nodded. "Ye've a good lad there, Gabe."

"Ye've a good lass, too, if ye' take care nae' tae' misplace her again." Gabriel sighed tiredly. "An' ye've Marian."

"Good luck to you, Gabe," said Marian, struggling with the tears that knotted her throat. "And may the Gods keep you safe."

Gabriel shrugged, than winced. "The Gods will do what they please, especially with the likes o' me." His face softened. "Ye' keep safe, also, Marian Hawke, ye' an' Nova both. Ah' only wish Ah'd found ye' sooner myself."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak further. She might not love Gabriel Vael, but she would miss him and Dallas, too. She felt Nova come to stand beside her, slipping one hand into Marian's while she silently waved goodbye to Dallas. _Another time_, she thought sadly as she raised her own hand in farewell, and she and Gabriel might have been happy together. Another time, and how different their lives might have been!

Not until then did she realize how closely Sebastian was watching her, his face once again a chiseled, dispassionate mask that revealed nothing. The golden trim on his jacket and the polished brass gorget around his neck glittered in the sunlight, and his hair was a shining bronze, all so bright and grand it almost hurt her eyes to look up at him. "You're not going with Gabriel?" he asked, with disinterest so patent that it chilled her heart, his spicy brogue once more non-existent. "Why come this far only to turn back?"

"He asked me to, but I told him no," she said, unable to hide her wistfulness. "I came with Gabriel to my cousin's house because I didn't believe he'd manage on his own, and to bring Nova home, as well. I followed them to the beach only to say goodbye. But I never would have gone with him. I belong here in Kirkwall, with Nova. _And with you, Sebastian_. The words froze, unsaid, at her lips. _I belong here in Kirkwall… with you!_

**7-7-7**

Sebastian wanted to believe her. How could he not? He wanted to believe, more than anything he'd ever wanted in his life, and now that he let himself at last look at her, really look, and see the love that shone so desperately from her eyes, he knew he'd be the greatest fool under the Maker's sky not to. There were so many fences to mend with her and their daughter both that he didn't know where to begin. But the one truth remained that Marian loved him – not Gabriel, not the rebel cause – but him, Sebastian Vael, maybe almost as much as he in turn loved her. He tugged off his glove and held his bare hand out to her. "Come, my love," he said softly. "High time we went back home."

**7-7-7**

Marian sat curled in the little armchair in her bedchambers, sipping her cup of coco while Nova played with Lady and the new tea set before the glow of the hearth. They'd retreated here for an early supper together and for a few quiet moments before Nova was put to bed and Marian returned to the taproom downstairs to welcome whatever guests The Rose might have this evening. It was the kind of simple evening they'd shared more times than Marian could count, the hour of the day she enjoyed and relished the most. But tonight the closeness she and Nova had always shared seemed missing, and sadly, Marian knew the reason why.

She watched her daughter play, carefully arranging the tiny cups and dishes as she murmured little sing-song conversations between Lady and an imaginary guest on the opposite side of the tea table. Though it was still two days until Solstice, Marian had decided to give Nova the tea set early, as a kind of homecoming gift. At least that was what she'd told Nova. What she'd secretly hoped was that the magically charged tea set might become a peace offering between them, a bridge that Marian might use to breach the hostile silence that Sebastian's presence had dropped between her and her daughter.

So far, as a gift, the tea set was an overwhelming success. Nova hadn't let it out of her sight. But its role as a peacemaker was far less certain. Marian sighed, setting her empty cup on the table beside her. She hadn't seen Sebastian since this morning, when he left them to report to the Knight-Vigilant and tend to the other business of his regiment, but he could be expected to return to the tavern at any time. If she was going to speak to Nova, she'd best do so now. "Nova, dove," she began softly. "We must talk about Knight-Commander Vael."

Though Nova's hand paused over the tea table, she didn't lift her head. "Don't want to," she muttered rebelliously. "Don't_** ever**_ want to."

"Well, then, I shall do all the talking, and you shall do the listening," said Marian quietly. "No matter how you might wish it were otherwise, Nova, Sebastian Vael is your father."

"But he can't be!" cried Nova as she rocked back on her heels, hugging Lady tightly in her arms. "My father's dead!"

Marian nodded; trying to remember the explanation she'd been composing all afternoon. This wasn't going to be easy for either of them, especially when others began to take notice, the way they inevitably would. She was surprised that Orana hadn't already. "You're far more fortunate than most children, Nova. You've been blessed with two fathers instead of one," she said carefully. "Lloyd raised you for the first year of your life, and by the Gods, little dove, he loved you and was so, so proud of you. But Sebastian is your father, too, the one most people will now call your real father."

"How can he be my real father when he isn't even married to you?" Nova's voice trembled uncertainly. "Besides, I only want one father, like everyone else."

"Oh, dove…" Marian held her arms open and Nova flew to meet her, wriggling until she found her favorite place in her mother's lap. "I know it's hard to understand, But I do believe that Sebastian wants to learn to love you, too, like a proper father, if only you'll let him."

Nova sighed, a ragged, sobbing hiccup of a sigh. "How can I let him, when he's a Templar and I a mage?"

"You must try, that's all," said Marian gently as she stroked her daughter's silky hair. "You might find he's actually a very nice man, no matter what color his armor. And I don't think he knows any more of what to do with you, than you do with him." For a long time, Nova considered this, tracing her fingers back and forth across Lady's painted face while she did.

"Do you love him, Ma?"

Marian smiled fondly. "Yes, little dove, I do, and I believe he loves me, too."

"Oh." Nova burrowed more deeply against Marian. "Then will you still love me?"

"What a question, sweet dove!" exclaimed Marian gently, her arms tight around her daughter. "Of course I'll still love you, even more than I love you now, if such a thing is possible. You'll always be my sweet Nova, and that will never, ever change."

The girl sighed again, and unhappily Marian knew her doubts remained. "If you love him, Ma," said Nova slowly, "and he loves you, then you must marry him. Otherwise he can't be my _**real**_, real father."

"Oh, Nova." Marian was grateful that Nova couldn't see how she flushed, for this was one question she had no answer for. "That's not something we ladies can decide. We have to wait for the gentleman to ask."

The knock on the door came then, and Marian's heart beat faster with anticipation. It must be Sebastian; at this hour, who else would it be?

"Down with you now. I must get the door," she said as she disentangled herself from her daughter. She smoothed her robe and hurried to the door, still conscious of how Nova hung back. _Poor baby_, thought Marian with concern. _How hard this all must be for her!_

Sebastian bowed when she opened the door, his smile warm and his eyes filled with the pleasure of seeing her again. Yet he looked worn and tired, too, and when he bent to kiss her cheek – a chaste, genteel salute for Nova's benefit – Marian squeezed his hand in silent sympathy.

"I've missed you," she said, her words quick and low. "Very much."

"And I you." His smile turned wry, and she knew from the way he was studying her mouth that he wished he could kiss her there next. "After a promising beginning, my day proved most tedious and filled with drama."

Her smile faded. "You're in trouble, aren't you? Over Gabriel?"

"Maker, no," he said lightly. "Only a dozen different reports to make to the Divine and the Knight-Vigilant both, and a laundry list of explanations to be written as to why the sun did rise this morning and why it most likely will set again this night. The sort of boring nonsense that fills any soldier's days in camp. But where is Lady Nova?" He swept past Marian and into the room, and as he did, Marian's uneasiness grew. Sebastian's breezy cheerfulness might reassure Nova, but she herself feared the explanations to the Knight-Vigilant had, had a great deal more to do with Gabriel's escape than with the sunrise.

7-7-7

Carefully Sebastian set the willow basket he'd been carrying on the floor. He'd noticed how Nova hadn't greeted him – how could he not? – And how she clutched that hideous cross-eyed doll as if it were a talisman against him. Well, so be it. He was willing to begin again with her and this time he was determined to win her over. As in any sort of battle, he'd reasoned, victory was all in choosing the proper weapon.

The basket lurched to one side, rustling strangely. Curious Nova leaned closer, close enough that she could hear the faint huffs from within, and her eyes lit with excitement.

"Go ahead," said Sebastian. "Open it."

Eagerly Nova crouched beside the basket and unfastened the pegs that held the lid in place. Even before she had finished, a small pink nose had thrust itself from beneath the lid, and with a squeal of delight Nova pulled the tiniest, pure white Mabari pup from the basket. "Oh- oh!" She giggled as the pup launched its tiny body toward Nova; merrily flicking it's little tongue in wet kisses to the girl. "Oh, serha, what a beautiful pup. Mabari too, very Ferelden, my home! But it's white… and it's eyes… Red?"

"Aye, and I had rough time finding this pup too. I never realized how rare a Mabari is out of Ferelden. But I guessed you'd be a Mabari type warrioress like your mum, and so persevered until I found this little beauty. The man I bought her from said that eighty percent of all Mabari pups born are male, the females usually pass at birth and all come as your little pup, with red eyes and white fur, to prove how rare and special they are. Why, once he told me that I snatched her right up, for I know this rare and special little lass that the pup without doubt could imprint to." He wasn't being quite truthful on several counts. The pup was rare indeed, but no beauty, instead she was a scrawny white runt, with her eyes too close together and an undocked, wispy tail better suited to a rat. Keran was the one who'd scoured the city for a mabari pup so far from Ferelden, and who'd had to pay dearly for this sorry little example, too, though he'd done it on Sebastian's orders. And as for predicting that Nova would want a puppy more than anything else? Well, what child wouldn't want their very own war beast? Sebastian himself had always wished for a mabari, but no money in the world could imprint the great hounds to their owners, it had to come naturally, and it hadn't for him. But he was certain by the pup's reaction to his daughter, that the pup wouldn't have a problem with imprinting.

So he'd not been entirely truthful, perhaps, but he was overly successful. The ecstatic look on Nova's face told him that, and the quick glance over his shoulder to Marian confirmed it. Gently he stroked the pups ears, and was rewarded with a rumbling growl that sounded more like a cats purr, a rumble far bigger than seemed possible from so scrawny a body. "Of course, it will be up to your mother whether or not you can keep her," he said seriously, as if he didn't already know Marian's answer. "She's going to take a great deal of feeding and care."

"I can do that, serha," said Nova quickly. "I know I can!" To prove it, she jumped up and scraped what was left from their supper onto one plate, and carefully set it in front of the hungry pup before she looked back to Marian. "Mama? You'll let me keep her, won't you? Please?"

7-7-7

The scene before Marian now was so exactly as she'd pictured it that she could do little but grin foolishly. The two people she loved most in the world, sitting side by side on the floor, their heads bowed together over the pup as she gobbled the scraps, their bronze hair nearly identical in the dancing firelight. If it had taken a strange little stray to bring them together, then as far as Marian was concerned, the pup was forever guaranteed a place of honor at her hearth. By the way the pup made certain to keep apart of herself attached to Nova - even while she ate – Marian, knew from experience with her own honored Mabari, that to try to separate Nova from the pup would turn quite deadly, even with a scrawny, runt of a beast like the albino rarity anyways.

"If you tend to the pup as you say, Nova," she said as she knelt to stroke the animal's sleek, white fur for herself, "then yes, you may keep her. But you must feed her, keep her from mischief and be certain to train her. A Mabari pup without proper training can be a fearful beast. She will also need a name, as well."

"You have a Lady already," said Sebastian, and Marian mentally gave him extra credit for remembering the doll's name. "Why not name the puppy Princess?"

"Princess?" Marian wrinkled her nose, kneeling beside them. "By the Gods, Princess is hardly a proper name for a great mabari war hound."

Nova rubbed her cheek against the pups back. "I don't care. I shall name her Princess, the Princess of War hounds, so that when she grows up she can be the Queen of War hounds, too."

**7-7-7**

Sebastian leaned back against the seat of the chair behind him and linked his fingers around his bent knee, enjoying his victory more by the minute. He liked watching the little lass cradle the puppy, and listening to her giggle as the animal snuggled closer for a nap.

She was a winsome little creature, his daughter, and his smile widened with pleasure at the sound of that. His daughter. Strange how much this sudden fatherhood had changed the way he saw the world. Throughout this very long day, his thoughts had constantly been here with Marian and Nova, and he'd turned down an invitation to dine with the other officers in his regiment to come back to the tavern instead. It wasn't the wisest move, perhaps, especially not after the endless stream of questions from Cullen that he'd had to face down this afternoon. For the first time in his career, he hadn't been entirely truthful with his commanding officer, and his conscience was far from easy. But by letting Gabriel escape, Sebastian had done what he believed was for the best, and sitting here in Marian's bedchamber, in the glow of her happiness, he found it impossible to regret his decision. How could he? After being in the wind with the Divine's elite for so many years, this small, plainly furnished room was, because of Marian, the closest thing to a home he'd had for a long, long time. In a way, he felt as if he'd finally come full circle. If his grandfather had taught him the honor to be found in protecting and defending what he loved most, then now, at last, he felt as if he'd found it.

"I danced with a princess once," he said lazily. "At a great ball in Nevarra, though I don't remember who or what was being honored."

"Truly, serha?" Once again Nova's eyes lit with curious interest. "Was she very grand?"

"Hardly. She was one of the king's poor relations, from Cumberland, and she spoke not a word of English. Short and stout, and laced so tightly that she wheezed as she danced. Stepped on my toes, too." Somehow he kept his face serious, even though he could hear Marian laughing. "But she was a full-blooded princess."

Disappointed, Nova shook her head. "That's not how princesses should be."

"No, I can't say she was," he agreed. He looked to Marian, their shared gaze lingering over the top of Nova's head. "But your mother, now, she'd make a most admirable princess. Drape her in silk and jewels, and she'd have every gentleman in the land bowing at her feet."

"Stop speaking such foolish nonsense, Vael," scoffed Marian, yet still blushing from the tops of her exposed shoulders, on up. "I've no wish to live in some haughty, drafty palace and wear a crown. Besides, what could I possibly have-"

"If you married my Mama, serha." Nova interrupted, rocking the snoozing pup gently.

"Then she'd be a true princess, seeing as you're a prince and all. That is, only if you love her of course."

**7-7-7**

Marian's mouth fell, her good humor tapering off to embarrassment. Marian had always made certain Nova spoke her mind, taught her to never let anyone burn out the fiery light inside. But sometimes, like now – as silence filled the room - that outspoken fire could really come back to bite Marian in the ass.

The little Cuckoo clock over the hearth chimed nine, and Marian jumped to her feet glad for the diversion. "Time for bed, Nova," she said briskly. "You know I'm past due downstairs. Come along now. And before you ask, yes Princess can sleep with you."

"Thank you, Mama!" Carefully, so as not to wake the pup, Nova slung an arm around Marian, hugging her awkwardly. Then she turned toward Sebastian, and bobbed a shy, jerky curtsy, with the pup still in her arms. "Thank you, too, serha. For Princess, I mean. And please think about what I've said, about my mother and all." She skipped off to her own room before Sebastian could answer, and Marian followed to help her change, though, not because the girl needed help, but more because Marian wasn't sure how to face Sebastian, after their daughter's bold words.

Making it through the door to Nova's bedroom though, she glanced back toward Sebastian. Saw how he lingered, uncertainly in the doorway of her bedchamber. And her heart broke for him. She could tell by how he leaned awkwardly on the doorframe that he wasn't quite sure were he'd fit in such a normal routine. She admired his respect for her and Nova, how he didn't want to push his welcome. "You can say goodnight to her, too, if you wish," she called over her shoulder. "And to Princess."

**7-7-7**

Sebastian jerked, startled how Marian seemed to read his mind and cleared his throat self-consciously as he went into the little room adjoining Marian's. A tall candle – tall enough to last far into the night – burned in a tin lantern beside Nova's low bed. The little girl herself lay beneath a soft wool blanket, the cross-eyed doll tucked beside her on one side and the puppy curled against her on the other.

"Princess looks comfortable enough," he said. "So do you, for that matter."

"I am." For the first time, Nova smiled at him. "That is, I am, serha, thank you."

Sebastian reached out to stroke the pup's head. "Do you think we could do away with that 'serha' business?" he asked. "That is, if your mama thinks it not too ill-mannered."

"She won't mind." Nova shifted to her side leaning her head on her hand as she curved herself around the sleeping mabari. "Mama told me that you truly are my real father, and that everyone will know because I favor you."

"Well, it is true," he said uncomfortably. "On both counts. It's only that I've been away, that's all."

"Eleven years is a great long while to be away," said Nova. "But you're here now, and that makes Mama happy, so I suppose Princess and I shall be happy, too. Even if you are a whitecoat." She flopped back down on her pillow with a drowsy, contented yawn. "Goodnight… Papa."

"Goodnight, sweet lass," said Sebastian gruffly, surprised by the lump that seemed to have swelled in his throat. He bent down to brush his lips across his daughter's forehead, and found it the most natural thing in the world to do.

"The mabari pup was a masterstroke," said Marian as he rejoined her in the larger bedchamber. "You couldn't have chosen a better way to please her."

"A lucky guess," he murmured, once again glancing back to the sleeping child. "I don't really know where to begin."

"You, my love, are managing admirably," said Marian fondly as she smoothed stray locks of her hair back into the golden pin she wore. "Continue as you've begun, and she'll quite forget I exist."

"Will she be safe alone in there?" he asked with concern. "She looks even younger when she's asleep."

"She'll be fine," said Marian, with amusement in her tone. "You forget that she's only known a mother who's toiled hard paths her whole life. When she was a baby she spent most her hours amongst the city guard, or with Carver. But since Orana came into our lives, she's been able to stay first at our family manor, and then The Rose. I lock her in at night, of course, but leave another key tied to the latch on her side, as well, so she can come out and find me if she needs to."

Sebastian watched as she nervously hooked the key ring to the tether at her waist, her eyes meeting his uncertainly. "Listen, about what Nova said, about us and marriage-"

"Marian, what if I asked for your hand right now?" asked Sebastian earnestly. For he did want to marry her, wanted to go about this… them, the right way for once in his life.

"I'd be mortified!"

"Mortified." Sebastian repeated, utterly confused. Searching her face for answers, only to be confused further by the odd smile on her face.

"I love you Sebastian Vael. You have shown me the world in a way I've never been able to see it before. But for you, to ask me, now… It would seem cheap, forced even and I don't want that for us. Right now, I'm happy just knowing you love me, and I you. Now, do you wish to come with me, or shall I meet you later?"

Sebastian felt his heart pound with her sweet honesty, he could understand her thinking, though he knew for himself there would be nothing forced about a proposal now. But there would be time for that in the future. His face fell at the latter part of her speech however. " I had thought we'd stay here, my love," he said, reaching for her hand. "Together."

Gently she touched her fingers across his lips, the caress easing his eyes closed. "I can't, Sebastian, not yet, as much as I wish to," her tone regretful. "I must see to my guests in the taproom, the way I do every night."

"There aren't any guests," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "At least there weren't any when I came in earlier. And even if there were, they could spare their Viscountess just this once."

"Sebastian I can explain that. It's just that… I-"

"Shh, lass." He chided playfully, pulling her closer, near enough to kiss her lightly, and the sound she made was suspiciously similar to the little pup's growled purr.

"It doesn't matter Mari. Now just stay," he whispered against her lips. In fact, it was almost an order. "I haven't given you your gift, you know."

"Later," she breathed, and slipped free. "I swear it."

**7-7-7**

In the hall, her fingers were trembling as she locked the door after them, and he kissed her again, enough to make her resolve melt away to near nothingness. Near, but not quite. If she'd come this far without giving in, her scrambled conscience reasoned, then continuing the rest of the way downstairs, to her responsibilities in the public rooms would be easy.

But her conscience had forgotten that between her chamber and the public rooms lay the chamber that was Sebastian's, a chamber with a feather bed, a fire and the sweet, heady memories of the night before, and as he latched the door after them, Marian's conscience at last fell helplessly, obligingly silent. Sebastian was right the city could do with out her Viscountess for the night.

_So, because ElyssaCousland asked so nicely, and because I don't want her poor heart to burst, I decided I could push this next chapter out tonight, instead of leaving it on that cliffhanger!_

_Night all!_

_-Scar_


	20. Chapter 20

_The Rogue's Conquest_

_Chapter Twenty_

"I believe you've forgotten to ask for your present." Remarked Sebastian, his voice little more than a raspy whisper at Marian's ear. When she didn't answer, he ran his finger along the shallow valley of her spin, stopping to caress the full roundness of her bottom as she lay sprawled on top of him She sighed then, satisfied, and shifted so that she could prop herself up on his chest to smile sleepily down at him

"I thought that _**was**_ my pressie," she purred, shoving the damp tangle of her hair back from her forehead. " And oh, sweet Venus, what a strikingly rare present it was, too."

He pulled her down to kiss again, leisurely savoring the taste of her mouth. "A present is something special, Mari. Making love to you will be a considerably more commonplace occurrence."

The laugh she graced him with was husky, dark and infected with provocative suggestion. "Frequent, perhaps, but never commonplace Knight-Commander," she murmured with a cheeky wink, stretching, her lithe curves rubbed casually against him. "By the Gods, Sebastian, your stamina would be enough to sate the goddess of sex herself… Not that I'm complaining, Gods know I'll be happily riding atop you again before we leave this bed. You laying right here," She paused, and began feathering her index over his nipples, treating the right first than the left, keeping Sebastian, her attentive captive, his body tight as his bowstring, while he waited for her to finish. "Your most chaste part at my mercy!" She teased, her silken tongue taking the job of her index, while her clever hand traced downward toward his 'chaste' member. Already he felt his interest quickening, growing hard again and his idle touch became more of a caress.

" Why, Marian Hawke," Sebastian murmured, feigning seriousness, pinching off the smile that threatened to surface. "You are quite a cunning fox upon these satin sheets, but there are still aspects of your craft that could be honed."

"Is that right serha?" she grinned. "Then you absolutely must promise to be my master tutor."

"I wouldn't trust any other. We've nearly twelve years between us to make up for." He groaned with the pleasure of her movements, and only through sheer will did he hold her still. "But first your present, lovely lass."

She pouted, puckering her bottom lip out most enticingly. "Can't it wait, Vael?"

"A little patience, Hawke," he said, even though he wasn't overly inclined to heed his own advice. "Can you reach my dress-coat?"

"If I must." She slid to one side of the bed to reach the dress-coat where in their haste it had been dropped, along with the rest of their clothing. She rolled over to face Sebastian, lightly touching the golden hawk tangled in the fabric of his coat as she handed it to him. "That brought you luck today, eh?" she said softly "When I think of how you faced down poor Dallas…. My blood still runs cold."

Sebastian pulled himself up against the headboard. "The boy couldn't have done it. I've seen others who would have fired without a thought, but Dallas isn't one of them, no matter how much Gabriel wished it so. I pray Gabe has learned that lesson."

"Amen to that," said Marian sadly. "But, Gods you were brave, and lucky, too. If I were you, I'd spare some credit to that little hawk." She pulled the comforter over her bare shoulders, watching him as he searched through the dress-coat's pockets. They'd left the curtains open at the end of the bed for light from the fire, and by its embers his tussled hair was a glimmering bronze. The broad planes of his chest and arms stood out with prideful distinction in the shadowy light, the curling hair on his chest glinting, and against the pine green of the bed sheets he seemed even more male. _What a beautiful, primal_ _man_, thought Marian, a beautiful, brave, charming man she loved more than she'd ever thought possible.

He ran his thumb across the golden pendent and smiled. "Of course I'll give my hawk credit. She's kept me alive this long, hasn't she?" He hesitated for a moment, watching her face. "Just like that little heart you always wear."

"You mean my locket?" She shrugged, embarrassed that he'd noticed. "It's hardly the same. Inside are two portraits; on one side is a painting of my sister, Bethany and on the other, a portrait of our little girl." Shrugging her shoulders lightly, Marian paused noting the uncertainty in Sebastian's eyes. "With Bethany gone, and Nova sent away, I needed something to keep me close to them, an anchor to keep me from drifting. A sentimental woman's whim; is all, I swear it."

He grinned outrageously. "Our daughter? Your sister? Oh, Mari, I thought – But no, it doesn't matter. Here, come closer. Gently he pulled her closer, the simple contact rippling gooseflesh along her skin, the comforter sliding forgotten from her shoulders. "_I am _most fortunate, you know, luckier than any man has a right to be," he said. "Avoiding arrows and fireballs is one thing. Coming to Kirkwall and finding you again is quite another." He opened his hand to show a small, silk-covered box, and he smiled at her uncertainly. All his carefully rehearsed speeches, all the sweet poet's words he'd wanted to say to her, evaporated like morning mist. He sighed, tapping his thumb against the top of the box. "I don't know where to begin, Mari," he admitted. "I know you said that this would seem forced…And after all the ways I've wronged you, I know I've no right to expect any favor in return. And when I think of what I've done to Nova, of the kind of scorn she could have suffered because of me – damnation, I can't believe what a blackguard I've been to you both." He was rambling and he knew it, rambling like an idiot, but because she said nothing to stop him, he couldn't stop himself. "Then look at the way I finally find you, part of an army that you call your enemy. I still am. Even though I want to try to set things to rights as best I can, I know I won't be able to. It doesn't matter how much I love you, or that I never want to leave you or Nova again. My very presence in your life will ruin your trade. But maybe after this wretched war, when the rebellion's won, and Kirkwall is at peace again, then maybe it won't matter as much if you and I—"

"Yes," said Marian softly. "Yes."

Drawn up short, he frowned. "Yes?" he repeated uneasily. "Yes, you say?"

"Yes, yes, yes, you nerd," she said, smiling though her eyes shone brightly with tears. "That is the answer you want, isn't it?"

He shook his head, almost afraid to believe her. "How can you give me an answer when I haven't properly asked the question? I've done so many things wrong with you. Let me do this one right." He flipped open the lid to the box and took out the ring nestled in plush within, a slim gold band crowned by a flower of garnets and pearls. Gingerly he held it poised between his thumb and forefinger, the little ring looking impossibly dainty by contrast." Will you marry me, Marian Hawke? Here, now, in Kirkwall, as soon as it can be arranged?" he asked, his voice thrumming with emotion. "Marry me and be my wife, my one love forever?"

This time Marian found it impossible to speak, her hand clamped tight against her mouth as she fought her tears. She'd never dreamed she'd live to hear such a question asked of her; nor had she ever imagined how much these simple words could begin to express the joy that filled her now? But she could still nod, and nod she did, and with a great sigh of satisfaction and relief, Sebastian slipped the ring onto her finger.

"There now, and it even fits," he said as he lifted her hand to kiss it. "I had to guess."

"It's perfect," whispered Marian as his lips grazed across her skin. "And so are you, Sebastian."

"Not quite," he said gruffly. "But I'm trying damned hard to be better."

At last she found she could smile. "Then we shall make a most excellent pair, love, always striving to improve ourselves."

"Ha! I'd say we make a fine pair already." He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her, giggling, up against his chest. "But I suppose I could show you again exactly how well we fit."

**8-8-8**

Marian woke slowly, dragged unwillingly back to consciousness. Hanging halfway between sleep and waking, she'd no wish to leave the warmth and security that still surrounded her, nor did she bother overmuch with wondering what had brought about this blissful condition. Yet once again she heard the voices from downstairs, men's voices in the taproom, and at last the habit of responsibility dragged her reluctantly from the sweet disorientation of sleep. She should dress and go downstairs and see to her guests. There might be a score of them waiting, from the sounds of their voices, more customers than she'd had for many nights, and she couldn't afford not to welcome them, not to laugh at their jokes, smooth over their arguments and see that their tankards stayed full throughout the night. She needed to check on Nova, as well, and make sure her daughter was still sleeping as soundly as when she and Sebastian had left her earlier.

She should go, yes, but in a moment. She curled herself more deeply against Sebastian's body, relishing the warmth and the intimacy of being here with him. He murmured unintelligibly in his sleep and circled his arm around her waist, holding her there. Another moment, she told herself, another precious moment was all. She lifted her hand with the new ring so that she could admire it again, the dark red stones sparkling in the last light of the fire. Marian Vael – she liked the sound of that. Her husband, Sebastian. She liked that even better. Her _husband_ Sebastian. Mr. and Mrs. Sebastian Vael, of Starkhaven and late of Lothering, and their daughter, Miss Nova Vael. Oh, it all sounded like the perfect fairytale ending to what had been a tumultuous way of life.

He'd said he wished to marry as quickly as possible. Given the circumstances, Revered Mother Rosa might be persuaded to turn a blind eye to Sebastian's status. They could be married by Solstice. They'd have the wedding in the lounge downstairs, a small wedding, but then that would be best. So few of her closest friends remained in Kirkwall and the ones who still did she had very likely already alienated them, and if she hadn't, a marriage to the Knight-Commander would do just that. But there'd still be joy; she'd make sure of it, with her own special punch for all of Sebastian's friends after the ceremony and Francois and his fiddle to play for dancing. Sebastian would wear his dress uniform with the gold lace and silver spurs, and if there was time, even two days, she'd have a new gown made for herself, silk taffeta or maybe a gown made of rich satin and soft lace. For once she'd spend her gold unreasonably without feeling guilty for doing so. She was going to marry Sebastian, and for him she wanted to be as beautiful as she could. And Nova must have a new gown, too, fine wool instead of silk, of course, but still very-

_What are the men doing on the stairs? _She pushed herself up on her elbows; nervously fiddling with the lyrium tear she wore around her neck as she listened. One man was speaking, saying things she couldn't make out, but from the footfalls on the bare steps, there were others with him, all unfamiliar to her senses, except for one, a woman, realized Marian, but Orana… Why was the little elf here, instead of tucked away with Fenris for the night? More importantly why was she coming up here with a crowd of men?

"What is it, Marian?" asked Sebastian, instantly awake beside her. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," she answered. The beginning tremors of the night wolf's awakening roiled deep in her belly and she couldn't help but feel certain that whoever treaded the back stairs, wasn't doing so with well wishes in mind. She apparently wasn't the only one feeling that way; Sebastian leaned from the bed to reach for his dagger. "It doesn't sound like-" But it was too late. The skeleton key was already clicking the lock and the door was flying open and soldiers were filling the room, surrounding the bed, Templar soldiers, all of them brandishing their weapon of choice, bows, swords and daggers, all directed at her and Sebastian as the bed curtains were violently wrenched back. With a feral growl escaping her lips, Marian grabbed the comforter to hide her nakedness, before shoving herself in front of Sebastian.

"Not here little wolf," he whispered, forcing Marian behind him. "They'll hang you."

"They look intent on hanging both of us." She retorted, snapping her teeth at what seemed like a sea of angry Templars.

"This won't help, love." Sebastian returned, gently squeezing her thigh reassuringly. Though she shrank back behind him like he wished her to, Marian was in no way reassured, she knew why the soldiers were here. There could only be one reason, but she didn't want to hear it.

"What in the Blessed Divine is the meaning of this intrusion?" demanded Sebastian. "I'll see you all broken, every last one of you, for breaking in here like this!"

It was a woman's voice that answered first, Orana, pushing her way to the front of the soldiers. In her hand was the ring with the skeleton key from the kitchen, where it was kept for emergencies, and her gaze as she stared at them blistered with hatred.

"Don't you 'Blessed Divine' me, you hypocritical ox!" she shouted at Sebastian, practically spitting the words. "It wasn't enough that you came here and ravaged this poor city! But, now you share a bed with the very demon you came here to tame. By the Gods you sired your very own bastard mage! And you, Marian, aye, did you think I was so blind I wouldn't see it? Not that I needed proof, everyone knows you're a whore."

"Why Orana?" Was all Marian could say, her heart flat lining from this betrayal. "After all I've done-"

"Oh, there it is," Orana spat, her pretty eyes growing colder. "Your constant need to remind me how you saved me, the perfect little elven pet right?"

"I have never-"

"Save it, Hawke. Save it for someone who cares to listen to your false words of love, save it for people like Anders, Isabela or," she paused, narrowing her eyes. "Or Fenris, people who let you walk on their hearts, their very souls like foolishly, loyal pups." Too stunned to talk, all Marian could do was listen, her heartstrings snapping at her beloved friend's tirade. "I haven't seen Fenris in weeks; did you know that? He'd much rather run headlong into danger to please you, than to be home, in the arms of a woman who actually loves him. And now, you repay his loyalty, by fucking the enemy-"

"Enough, knife ears," ordered Knight-Vigilant Cullen as he stepped forward. He waved his hand impatiently, and two of the soldiers seized Orana pulling her aside. "Vael and his abomination have more to worry about now than a bastard kid and hurt feelings."

"Knight-Vigilant, sir," said Sebastian, his words clipped with anger. "Perhaps you can explain why-"

"There is nothing whatsoever to explain," snapped Cullen. "At least not to you. In the name of The Lady Divine Justinia V, I hereby arrest you, Sebastian Vael, of the fair lady's Twenty-fifth Regiment."

Marian gasped, and once more she tried to shove in front of Sebastian, but again she was pushed back. His expression didn't change a fraction, nor did his voice lose the heat of his anger. "Am I to be told the charges against me, sir?"

"Treason," said Cullen. "High treason, and default of your duties as an officer. And may the Maker have mercy upon you, sir, because I surely will not."

**8-8-8**

Sebastian dragged himself upright at the sound of the footsteps coming down the hall, the shackles around his ankles and the irons hanging from his wrists nearly as heavy as his heart. Two days ago they'd shoved him into this dank, dirty cell by himself, where the only comforts were the moldy straw piled on the floor for his bed and a bucket in the corner. There was no candle or lantern, no fire for warmth, and only the weakest of daylight managed to filter through the tiny slits high in the wall. The brick walls and floor held the damp and the chill, as well as the less tangible scents of the fear and desperation of its former occupants. The good men of Kirkwall had built their gallows well, and since the first mages who went from its cells to the hangman, no man, nor woman, had managed to escape.

The footsteps were coming closer, their echoes louder, and Sebastian lumbered to the door. It was too early for the guard to bring the evening meal, and until now he'd had no other visitors. He leaned close to the heavy battened doors, straining to make out the voices on the other side, concentrating so hard that he barely had time to stagger back from the opening door when he heard the scrape of the warden's key in the iron padlock.

The warden, an emaciated man named Vilkas, came first, holding a lantern that made Sebastian shield his eyes from the unaccustomed brightness. After Vilkas followed an infantryman Sebastian recognized by now as one of his personal guards, none of them from his own regiment. The man spat at Sebastian, making his contempt as clear as he could, and raised the hilt of his sword, ready to strike Sebastian with any provocation. Not that Sebastian intended to offer any. He still bore the angry bruises from the first night, when Vilkas and the guards had been as rough as they pleased bringing him here and putting him in irons. Yet it didn't matter that his cheek and brow were bloody and swollen, or that his shirt and dress-coat were torn and filthy; he was still an officer of the Divine until proven otherwise, and he would not be intimidated, and before the guard he stood as proud and straight as he could.

But that hard-earned composure vanished as soon as he saw who else had come.

"Cullen, by Andraste," he said furiously. "Where's Marian Hawke? What have ye' done with her? Damnation, if ye've hurt her in any way-" Now the guard swung the hilt of the sword, striking Sebastian so hard in the shoulder that he staggered, gasping, back against the wall.

"You'll do what, Vael?" asked the Knight-Vigilant, his smile thin. "In your current state you'd do better to look after your own affairs than those of the rebel wench who brought you down."

Slumped against the wall, still struggling to catch his breath, Sebastian let the first edge of desperation creep into his voice. "The – the Black Divine take ye', Cullen! Where – where is she?"

"Oh, Marian Hawke's safe enough, her brother and that stiff-necked, wall of a Guard-Captain has made certain of that," said Cullen lightly. "Still snug under her own roof, if you must know. Besides we wouldn't want any unfortunate accidents to come to her before she must testify against you. Strange to have to court martial a mage, but given the circumstances, I intend to use everything against you that I can. After that, of course, she'll be tried herself, in Orlais, on charges much graver than yours. Spying, treason, her cook has even graced me with stories of your mistress being the leader of this blasted rebellion. Did you know? Bah, it doesn't much matter, she'll hang, too, if that's any comfort to you."

Still breathing hard, Sebastian fought against the bleak sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew that every word the Knight-Vigilant said was true. There was no possible way he'd be found innocent in a court-martial, not when he'd be judged by the same peers he was charged with betraying. He'd done what he believed was right, but with Cullen against him, no one would stop to listen to his reasons. Now every order he'd ever given, every action that had depended upon his judgment, would be reviewed, questioned and finally discredited, until the career that had been his life would be dishonored beyond redemption.

And then there was Marian. What Cullen had said about her was true, too. She would be forced to testify against him, and the prosecutor would not treat her with the gentleness she deserved. Everything she'd try to say in Sebastian's defense would be twisted about and turned against them both, and by the time she herself was tried, there would be nothing left of either her creditability or her good name.

It was bad enough for a man to be hanged, but for a woman it seemed somehow even more horrifying, more shameful. Once he'd seen three women, a trio of blood mages, executed in Nevarra, and the memory had stayed with him long after. To know that Marian would die in such an unspeakably cruel and painful way was beyond bearing, and the thought of poor Nova left orphaned and friendless in that appalling manner only terrorized his sense of rage and powerlessness. The best that Sebastian could hope for was that in the two nights they'd spent together, Marian had conceived another babe by him; at least then her life would be spared till the baby was born. But as best hopes went, it was a grim one indeed. His head bowed, he let despair sweep over him. Once before she'd been nearly ruined because of him. Now he'd returned to her life, and instead of the wedding he'd promised her, she faced death. All because of him, all because of what he'd brought to her. She was sly as a fox, twice as cunning even, but there'd be no way she'd escape the hangman, this time he had finished what he'd started nearly twelve years past.

Slowly he glanced back at Cullen, raising his hands just enough for the irons to clink together. "Why did you come?" he asked. "To mock me? To gloat?"

"Why did I come?" Musing, Cullen dabbed at his nose with the scented handkerchief that he was using to mask the stench of the gallows. "I suppose I'm here to teach myself a lesson. I trusted you, Vael. I believed you were one of us that you were a Templar, no matter what side of this blasted war your bloodline had settled on. But the Divine and I were wrong to trust you, weren't we, eh? In your heart, you always kept a soft patch for these abominations, a lawless savage, just like them and even wearing the Divine's holy armor couldn't change you."

A lawless savage, thought Sebastian. Lawless savages like Gabriel and Marian and Aveline too, good people, strong people, people who didn't need a lady Divine to decide what was right. He looked down, his eyes drawn to the glint of gold as the lantern caught his lucky hawk, somehow still hooked to his dress-coat. The only luck he had now was ill, but perhaps there was more of a message to be found in the little hawk than luck alone. "I have never once brought shame to my uniform or my regiment, sir," he said as he touched the golden piece. "Though you will not believe it now, I have always done my best to obey my orders and follow my duty to the people I'd sworn to protect."

"But you couldn't deny your blood, could you, Vael?" said Cullen sharply. "When the final choice came, you sided with the black-hearted rogues. Now you've destroyed yourself for the sake of this pointless rebellion, and for your misguided devotion to that whoring little tavern wench. You couldn't have done worse to yourself if you'd drunk nightshade. In the end, you followed your own kind."

"Aye, that is true," said Sebastian slowly, "and for the sake of my soul, I thank their Gods that I did."

"Then your soul will go straight to the Black Divine, where it belongs, Vael, and welcome she is to it." Curtly, Cullen motioned to the warden to lead the way from the cell. "I should have known better than to expect any sort of repentance or remorse for your actions from you. What could your kind know of honor? The court will convene in two days. I expect their decision to be swift, so you will do well to prepare yourself." Sebastian watched them leave in silence, his chained hands hanging heavily at his sides. There was nothing left for him to say, not now. "Oh, and happy Solstice, Vael," he said with a mocking smile. "Enjoy the day however you can, for you know it's bound to be your last." The door swung shut on the Knight-Vigilance laughter, and the darkness that surrounded Sebastian was complete.

**8-8-8**

With a sigh, Marian drew the grimy blankets around her shoulders and stared up at the beams overhead, as if she could see beyond them to the room above. The taproom, that would be it, and from the stamping of feet and the whooping and cheering of men tumbled far into their cups she was certain they'd broken the lock on the bar to reach the liquor kept inside. At least they hadn't come down here yet in search of more. Or perhaps the Templar soldiers simply hadn't realized that this cellar room that they had turned into her makeshift prison was really the storeroom for her best rum, Starkhaven rum, hogshead after hogshead of it, stacked against the outside wall to keep cool.

Tonight that cool had shifted to outright cold, and when Marian blew out her breath in a little puff she could see it, a tiny cloud that hovered before her lips. She curled herself more tightly for warmth on the worn straw mat and cursed herself as she did, for forcing Carver, as she had, to agree to the Knight-Vigilance wishes for her imprisonment. At least she'd negotiated her imprisonment here, instead of the gallows. And she hadn't been left in the dark, that was a bonus, they'd left her a lantern, though it's light was growing dim, and with her mana drained so completely that she could no longer (much to her dismay) feel the wolf nor the hawk, Marian figured she'd lose her small luxury of light soon enough.

The men upstairs were roaring Solstice songs now. Likely passing around her lyrium tear they stole from her as 'evidence,' to quench their dust addictions. One more time she turned her hand toward the lantern to see the garnet and pearl betrothal ring, Sebastian's Solstice gift to her, and one more time the red stones blurred before her in the tears she couldn't hold back. She had thought they'd never again be parted. She had believed that their love for one another would be strong enough to carry them through anything. She had imagined Sebastian as her husband and she as his wife, and Nova at last with the two loving parents that every child deserved. She'd pictured other children, too, happy, gurgling babies with Sebastian's turquoise eyes and her scarlet curls. She'd dreamed of the tavern filled with laughter and love, in a Kirkwall free from tyranny and fear.

All this she had dreamed; but as with so many other dreams, Marian had seen hers crushed ruthlessly and forever in the brief moments that the Templar soldiers had dragged Sebastian away from her. He would never be her husband now, and never again would she know the sweetness of his kisses or the passion of his embrace. She would never even see him alone again, not in this life. For in those same few moments, her own fate had been inexorably changed, too. No more could she dream of being a wife, a mother or even an aunt. Now she was only a mage abomination with bound hands, destined to dance her life away on the end of a rope.

With nervous fingers, she opened the locket for the heartbreaking torment of seeing her daughter's face. Nova, too, had been torn from her, with no hope of return, just like Bethany had. The soldiers had told her that the girl was not to be found, that her little bed had been empty when they searched for her. But Marian didn't believe them, and with the sickening dread that only a mother could feel, she thought of all the misfortune that might have befallen her innocent daughter.

She was _**THE**_ Champion…. A Viscountess, to a city she had saved, two times over! A mage, with abilities so rare and unknown, even to the magisters of Tevinter. And now, as she sat, a prisoner in her own cellar, weeping like a child, she realized that power at its core was… is a precarious thing. The top of the mountain was a steep and slippery place to be, and with only a misstep, a slight failure of footing, she'd tumbled head over arse all the way back down to the bottom.

Her inflated sense of self, that feeling of security she'd allowed, had been foolish. The only two people who had shown up for her, to defend her had been her brother and Aveline, and she hadn't missed the contempt in their eyes, even as they aided her. Where were the people she'd protected? Where was the uprising she'd expected? Where was the call to arms in defense of their fearless leader? And why, in her darkest hour, did she not blame her people for not coming to her aid? How could she blame them? She'd lead them into this rebellion… Only to sleep with their enemy, falling in love with him even. Gods only knew what other stories were being floated about.

"Oh, Orana!" Marian sighed dejectedly, what had she done to the little elf to make her hate Marian as she did… How had she hid such bottled up disdain? In all her days, Marian had never, EVER, been so blindsided before.

Nothing was right in her world, she'd never in her entire life been so powerless, and nothing was as it should be, or would ever be again. Nothing could help her now, and with a frightened, desperate sob torn straight from her soul, Marian buried her face against the musty straw mat and wept as if her heart would break.

In a way, it already had.

**8-8-8**

"I get to hold the basket, Dallas," whispered Nova as she yanked the handle away from the boy's hand. "Your father said so."

"What Pa told_**me**_," hissed Dallas in return, "was that Ah' was supposed tae' watch over ye', an' that means carryin' the basket if it's too heavy fer' ye'."

Nova raised her chin the same way she'd seen Mama do when she expected to be obeyed. "Well, it's not," she said firmly. "And if you keep looking so grim and grumpy, the warden will know in a minute that you intend to cause him trouble. We're supposed to look fragile and innocent. Your father said so." Dallas swore with exasperation – a fine, bitter oath that made Nova gasp with indignation. "You can't say such foul things in front of a lady, Dallas! Your father would whip you good if he heard you!"

"Ah'll' say what Ah' want, Nova," he said with an equal measure of indignation, "an' if ye' tell me one more time what mah" own pa said or didnae' say, why, then ye' can see what it's like tae' walk into that ole' prison by yerself'."

"Humph, I wouldn't mind at all," she retorted quickly. "It's my mama and papa that I'm going to rescue."

Dallas glared at her. "_**We're **_goin' tae' rescue them. Ye' cannae' do it by yerself'"

"See if I couldn't," warned Nova, her eyes narrowed. "I haven't forgotten, Dallas, that you were the one who wanted to shoot Papa, and leave me without a father all over again." Dallas swore again, the only answer he could think of. He didn't like arguing with Nova, not the way she always seemed able to turn what he said wrong side out, and besides, they were within sight, and hearing, of the gallows. Nervously he looked over his shoulder one last time, peering into the shadows where his father had promised he'd be waiting. Fiery-mouthed girls like Nova didn't know what real danger was, not the way he did.

"Where's that wretched doll of yers'?" he whispered.

Silently Nova pulled Lady from the basket and cradled the doll in her arms. She felt so much better now that she had something to do to help her parents. Dallas' father – she still couldn't think of him as her uncle, not yet – had promised her it would be like that, and he'd been right. She was still a little afraid of him, even though he was the one who'd found her after the soldiers came, hiding with Casey in the barn. But Gabriel Vael was far kinder than he looked, and what was more important, he had understood why she wanted so much to be here now. Bringing Lady had been his idea, too, and she smiled as she smoothed the doll's elaborate satin skirts, imagining how surprised her father was going to be.

Neatly she tugged the checkered napkin back into place over the top of the basket, and handed it to Dallas. "Now you can carry it, if it pleases you," she said. "But remember I'm to do the talking. Your father said so." They walked boldly up to the gallows door, flanked on either side by two soldiers. Without hesitating, Nova reached up and pounded her mittened fist on the door.

"Hey now, what do you think you're doing little chit?" asked one of the guards, his manner not unkindly. "Go on, back home to your mum. A prison is no place for little girls like you, nor for your brother, neither."

Gracefully Nova bobbed a curtsy, the way Mama had taught her, or at least mustering as much grace as she could manage with Lady clutched in her arms. "Tis no place for my father, either, not on Solstice," she said sadly. "If it pleases you, serha. I'd like to see him, if only for a moment. His name is Knight-Commander Sebastian Vael."

The two Templars exchanged uncomfortable glances. Though the whole town, mage and Templar alike, now knew the scandal of the Knight-Commander's bastard, there hadn't been any orders given regarding her. "It's not for me to decide, little miss," said the first one. "Solstice or no, your father's not a regular sort of prisoner."

The pleading in Nova's gaze was genuine, and could have melted all the snow in Kirkwall. "Please, serha," she begged softly. "What harm could come of it, especially on Solstice?"

But before the soldier could answer, the door opened and the warden himself appeared. Clearly Mr. Vilkas had come from the comfort of his fire, with worn slippers on his feet and a stiff cone-shaped cap covering his shaved head. He'd been in charge of Kirkwall's gallows almost as long as the Hawke's had been in the city, and when the Templars came he'd kept his post under Mama's orders. "Mr. Vilkas, serha." Nova made another quick curtsy on the snowy step. "If it pleases you, I wish to bring my father Solstice dinner." The warden frowned to hide his discomfort. Drunken pirates and desperate thieves were nothing to him, but a solemn little girl in a red hooded cloak was something altogether beyond his experience.

"Nova Hawke, isn't it? Lady Hawke's little lass?" he asked, then cleared his throat as he recalled the details of his lady's scandal. "Or is it Nova, er, Nova Vael now?"

"If it pleases you, you may call me just Nova, serha," she said primly. "That's easiest. Now would you kindly take me to my father?"

Uneasily Dallas shifted from one foot to the other, convinced they would be sent off on their way. His father had said to let Nova speak to Mr. Vilkas, on account of men favoring girls more than boys, but it was hard, damned hard, to stand here behind her skirts. The warden opened the door more widely, and Nova sailed through with her head held high as a queen's. But as Dallas began to follow, Vilkas thrust out his leg to block his way.

"Not you, too, boy," he growled. "The lass can see her father alone."

"But Ah' have tae' come along with her," said Dallas anxiously. He'd no wish to return to his father without Nova. He lifted the basket for Vilkas to see as proof. "Ah'am her cousin, an' Ah' have tae'. Besides, Ah' am bringin' her father's supper."

"Then I will take it from here," said the warden, grabbing the basket before Dallas could stop him and then slamming the door in the boy's face. He turned and bent down to smile at Nova, his breath sour in her face. "You don't need that nasty rogue of a boy, do you, lass? Nay, not a pretty little flower like you. How old are you, anyway?"

As Vilkas' smile widened into an outright leer, Nova would have very much liked Dallas' company with her, and his father's, as well. But she'd bragged that she could do this alone, and she was determined to prove it. Her father and Mama were depending on her.

"Nearly twelve, serha," she said, as imperiously as she could. "If you please, I should like to see my father now."

"Only twelve?" the warden's smile wavered and fell. Where's your coin then, you insolent little baggage?" From her pocket Nova drew the Starkhaven dollar that Dallas' father had given her, and even before she held it out, Vilkas had snatched it from her and stuffed it into his waistcoat. "On with you then," he growled. "Go see that worthless excuse for a father. Little enough he can do for you now, turncoat. gallows bait like that."

As he spoke, he rummaged through Nova's basket, searching for weapons or anything that might be used for an escape. Finding nothing but the food she'd said, he flipped the basket back toward Nova, forcing her to scramble to catch it with her free hand before it fell to the floor. Without a backward glance, Vilkas led Nova through the parlor and bedchamber were the sum of his dingy quarters was, down a narrow hall where their footsteps echoed ominously, and toward the double walled brick cells designed to hold the most dangerous prisoners. They passed two guards, tossing dice to pass the time with a canteen of Solstice rum between them, and when they rose to join Vilkas, he waved them back, not wanting to waste the show of another guard on a mere girl.

Even though Nova didn't trust the warden, she still kept as close to him and the lantern in his hand as she dared, her heart pounding as she skipped to keep up. The prison smelled worse than any barnyard, and behind the barred doors locked with heavy iron padlocks, men yelled and swore at Vilkas as he passed by, and at her, too. In the tavern she had overheard tales of the wicked things that men did to land in the gallows, but these men must have done things that were even worse to land in such a nightmarish place. Yet her father and mother, her mother who hated dirt and untidiness, were here, too, and she clutched Lady all the more tightly as she thought of what she must do next.

Vilkas stopped before the last door, fingering through the keys on his ring. "Up with you now, Vael," he called, thumping his fist on the door for good measure. "You've another visitor."

_._


	21. Chapter 21

The Rogue's Conquest

_Chapter Twenty-One_

Walking into the heat of his mansion, Fenris' broadsword slipped from his shoulder, clattering to the floor, as he shook the freshly fallen snowflakes from his white hair and leather armour. Gods it was nice to be home. After spending three nights, four days and five hours –but who's counting?- Alone on Sundermount, he'd never been happier to see Kirkwall's gates come into view. He'd also been thankful for the cover of darkness. Though the nights were near freezing, -especially on the outskirts of the city, where there was no foliage to cover from the wind- Fenris had decided to rough it, unable to wait any longer than he had to, to be home once the city had come into sight. Much to his pleasure, getting back to his commandeered mansion in Hightown had been relatively easy, the Templars all hiding indoors from the blizzard that raged outside.

He'd followed a Templar Regiment to Sundermount, curious as to why they'd decided to take up residence so far out of the city, on a mountain that had been completely abandoned since the Dalish had moved on more than a year ago. Lyrium was the short of it, but he also suspected the men and women he'd followed were deserters of their order. If they were, as he suspected, Marian could use that… Could use them for the cause… Shaking his head in disbelief, Fenris smiled to himself. Never in all his life had he thought he'd further a mage rebellion. Nor had he ever suspected that he'd further the cause on his own accord, no orders and no payment needed. Yet, he'd spent countless nights, in the middle of nowhere, freezing cold, alone and with little food, to do just that… further more, he'd done it happily…

He'd need to speak with Marian tonight. Perhaps first, he'd warm himself by the fire, get some feeling back into his toes, and then trek to The Rose. Fenris shook with the thought of leaving his home again so soon. In regular, non-wartime cases the walk from his Hightown mansion, to The Rose was five minutes at worst, but with all the enemy soldiers and undercover snitches roaming about, the walk took an half an hour at best, slipping through alleyways and shadows to avoid detection was at this point second nature.

By the Gods, all he wanted now was a glass of wine, his bed and Orana…"Aura?" Fenris called out, then waited for the sweet fluttering of her voice, his ears twitching as he waited with excitement. His blood chilled slightly when only his voice echoed back. _Something's wrong. _He couldn't say why his instinct whispered warnings… Years of needing to be ready for anything, had perhaps groomed him for the worst, but this wasn't simple paranoia, he could feel it in his bones. Keeping his steps light, Fenris moved through his home. From one room to the next, he searched, turning up nothing.

Coming back to the Great hall, Fenris stood at the bottom of the winding, double staircase, leading to the upper level, his room and the lounge were the only rooms up there… _His_ quarters! The two places he felt most comfortable had become threatening. That thought alone had his markings humming with his anger. Grabbing his broadsword off the floor, Fenris bounded up the stairs, less ninja, more bull, taking it two steps at a time. The freshly sharpened sword hissed against the smooth marble staircase as it trailed behind him. Swinging it to the ready Fenris launched himself onto the landing. He hit the wooden door to the lounge so hard the door splintered under the force of his lyrium tattoos.

The blood-curdling scream that he was met with nearly toppled him over. Instantly Fenris dropped his sword, raising his palms flat over his ears. He hit the ground; knees meeting stone, the light of his markings ebbed, leaving only the orange glow of the hearth.

"Shhh, girl, hush now." Gabriel Vael approached from the shadows, laying a hand on the little girls shoulder, her shouts calming down to sniffs.

"Wha-" Fenris tried, rubbing his ears as he took in the room fully. Nova Stood in the center of the floor her eyes wide, she was as still as a statue, her doll fallen on the floor beside her, likely she'd dropped it in her fright. Dallas, the youngest Vael prince, stood in a corner of the room his eyes suspicious of Fenris, fearful… He'd scared the children. Fenris sighed and lifted his gaze to Gabriel's. "What are you doing here Vael? And why is Marian Hawke's little lamb here? Where is Marian? Did Orana let you in?" As the barrage of questions came out Fenris became more and more on edge, the feeling of a threat hadn't faded, hadn't even wavered. And as Gabriel moved to the plush couch in front of the hearth Fenris knew his night wasn't near to over. "What has happened?" he whispered, pushing himself from the floor to move to the girl still standing in the center of the lounge. Scooping up her doll he handed it to her, a silent apology for alarming her so.

"It's Mari. She's been taken captive by the Templars." Gabriel was tired, physically, mentally, exhausted, anyone with eyes and ears could see it, his face sunken in, his skin too pale, even his bronzed mane seemed to have collected specks of more silvery strands.

"How?" Fenris growled. The look in Gabriel's eyes sent a shiver of fear through him, the turquoise orbs filled with… _Sympathy_. Gabriel Vael wasn't a sympathetic man.

"Orana… Orana sold us out." Vael's voice cracked.

"No-" Fenris hissed. Backing away from Nova as the little girl shook her head 'yes' rapidly.

"I saw it myself uncle Fen!" The girl pitched in.

"That's impossible… Why?" Desperate, Fenris searched the faces in the room each more telling than the next, each assuring him this news was true… _but why!_ "I have to talk to Orana."

"If ye' can locate her, she's all yers'. We've been searching fer' days, without luck. Ah' am nate' here tae' be the bearer o' bad news though. Ah' am here because we're getting' Marian back an' Ah' need yer' help. Buck up man, Marian needs us, we cannae' let her down."

He couldn't say how, but Fenris knew it was true, every word. If he were honest he'd sensed a tension between Marian and Orana for a long time, but never, _NEVER_ did he expect Orana to turn coat. Icing his emotions, Fenris looked to Gabriel. "You're right. I'll deal with my…" He hesitated, "problem, but only after Marian is safe, I owe her that much." Gods as his witness, Fenris would deal with his 'problem' Orana would lose her heart, she'd taken his after all, no excuse in the world would save hers.

**7-7-7 **

On the other side of the cell door Sebastian was already standing tensed and waiting, drawn by the sound of Vilkas' footfalls long before his call. Quickly he mentally tallied the short list of people whom would visit him. Cullen? Unlikely… One of the Chantry mothers? His trial hadn't started; they certainly wouldn't show until it was time for his last rights…. One of his men perhaps? There could be some loyal enough to dare visit him here. Or maybe the old warden was simply toying with him… Though, with how cruel the old man was, Sebastian assumed he wouldn't be clever enough to make such an announcement from sadistic spite alone. If he said there was a visitor than there was a visitor. Sebastian squared his shoulders as best he could to meet him.

But the visitor wasn't a _him_ at all.

"Merry Solstice, Papa," said Nova, her voice barely higher than a whisper as she hung back in the doorway. "I came to see how you were doing, and to bring you supper."

Filled with shame, Sebastian could see how battered and awful he must look from the expression on his child's face. He had never wanted her to see him like this; he didn't want to see _her _in a place like this at all. "Happy Solstice to you, too, sweet dove," he responded softly, willing to give the world for them to have met in another place. "How is your mother?"

He saw the pain register across his daughter's pretty eyes as she shook her head, and cursed himself for having brought it both to Nova and to Marian, too, wherever she was. When Cullen told him Marian was a prisoner beneath her own roof, he'd prayed that she was only under house arrest, that she'd been confined, but was otherwise unharmed, and able to see Nova and have the comforts of her own rooms. One look at his daughter's face, and he realized how much in vain those hopes had been.

"I am with friends who care for me," said Nova, with a stiffness that convinced Sebastian she spoke from memory, a line practiced over and over and over until she had it. "I am well, as you can see." She in turn could see that he was not, her gaze shifting inevitably from the irons to the bruises and cuts that marked his face. But as mangled, as he must look, she still came toward him, tipping her face up to be able to kiss his cheek. With mingled sorrow and tenderness, he kissed her in return, the chains that joined his wrists making it impossible to embrace her the way he wished.

She took a step back and held the doll up to him. "You must certainly kiss Lady, too," she insisted. "She's missed you, you know."

Sebastian stared down at the doll's irksome face, wondering what in the Black Divine his daughter saw in the ragged doll. Nevertheless, Sebastian dutifully reached for Lady to lift her to his lips, looping his linked wrists around the doll in a way he hadn't been able to with Nova.

Was it the weight of his chains alone that made the doll feel so heavy? He frowned a little, his fingers spreading to support Lady's weight, and as he did he felt something firm under the satin skirts, bulky at one end then tapering off into a point… A dagger?! Maker! He slid his fingers over Lady's stuffed back, feeling the weapon tucked snug there, trying to keep his face masked.

"Lady likes you Pa," said Nova, her face even more innocent as she smiled for the first time. "She always has."

Suddenly her face twisted with shock as she clutched at her pocket, and she looked fearfully to Sebastian's watchman. "Oh, Mr. Vilkas!" she gasped. "I had another sovereign for you, sir, and now it's gone! I know I had it just a moment ago, it must have fallen in the straw, here!" She dropped to her knees, frantically running her hands through the straw to look for the missing currency. With a muttered oath, Vilkas crouched down beside her, holding the lantern over the straw.

"Calm yourself, girl," he said as he bent low to help her search, greed barely masquerading as concern. "Gold pieces don't just go missing." For an instant Nova's gaze, eager and excited, met Sebastian's over the jailer's head, just long enough for Sebastian to realize the lost money was for his benefit. His daughter, he thought with a surge of pride, his brave, clever, little lass, had done this for _him_.

Swiftly he dropped the doll and the dagger, wrapped the iron chain taut around one wrist, and with the other heavy cuff struck the back of Vilkas' head as hard as he could. With a startled grunt, the watchman toppled over into the straw and lay still. Nova stared wide-eyed at Vilkas' lifeless body.

"Is he dead?" She whispered, her voice saddened.

"No, Sweet, but he'll wish he was when he wakes up," said Sebastian as he searched the watchman's belt. "I'll need your help again here, my sweet. One of these little keys should open the irons, but we'll have to keep trying until we find the right one. Hurry now, as fast as you can!"

Nova scrambled closer as he held the lock steady for her to begin testing the keys. "You didn't use the dagger."

"Didn't need to," he said simply, his thoughts already racing ahead. "But most likely I will before we're clear from here. I can't begin to thank Lady enough."

She glanced up without lifting her chin and smiled shyly, so much like her mother that Sebastian caught his breath. "I have another dagger in my pocket. And I saw a bow, with arrows on my way in, just in the other room! Lady wanted to help."

"Well Lady can help as much as she pleases from here on out."

"It's not working… none of the keys are working!" Nova whispered her words tinged with worry.

"Just keep trying little lass." Sebastian soothed, though he felt and understood her panic. Anyone could come at any time and all this would be for naught!

"Oh, blast these cursed cuffs." The little girl suddenly shrieked tossing the key ring to the floor, her eyes swirling different colors.

"Nova, you have to kee-" but before Sebastian could convince his daughter to keep trying she had called magic into her palms, laying her hands about the old cuffs. Quickly they began to freeze, colder and colder, freezing Sebastian's wrists to an almost unbearable level of pain, but he didn't complain not once, instead he sat stunned, staring admiringly at his daughter, reveling in her cleverness as the cuffs turned brittle. Sebastian found himself both impressed and surprised with his daughter's prowess. Clearly she'd been trained well, her abilities rivaling that of much older circle mages. "Shield your face, lass." Sebastian commanded, the little girl obliging as he smashed the icy cuffs against the ground, the iron splintering into a million pieces. Sebastian shook his hands, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had chaffed the skin raw. With his hands free, Sebastian picked up the key ring, relieved when the second key he tried clicked the lock on the irons around his ankles. Swiftly Sebastian rolled Vilkas over and clasped the irons around his wrists, pinning the watchman's hands around his back before he used the unconscious man's own handkerchief to gag him, as well. Next he had Nova grab him the bow and arrows she'd seen. The girl scampered off, quickly coming back with a rickety, poor excuse of a bow, it's string limp like cooked spaghetti noodles… It would have to do he thought, slinging it over his shoulder as well as the arrow sheath.

"How'd you know freezing my restraints would work?" Sebastian questioned, he knew there really wasn't time, but his curiosity couldn't be helped. He knew there was a better place and time, but what if that time didn't come? Anything could happen. He looked down at his daughter, her eerie swirling eyes staring up into his turquoise orbs. She was clearly trying to decide if she'd answer him or not, if she'd trust him or not, and that thought had Sebastian holding his breath, because he wanted more than anything in the world, for this little lass, his daughter to trust him.

"A voice told me to try it," she said in a rush. "Sometimes, when I don't know what to do and I'm scared, a voice will tell me… Will guide me."

"A voice?" Sebastian asked, searching her face.

"Yes, Mama calls it my 'instinct'… My guardian."

His order would call it a demon… An abomination, but she wasn't an abomination his daughter, nor was Marian, and with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach Sebastian couldn't help but wonder how many mages with the same 'instinct' had been made tranquil at his command. There were true abominations, he'd seen them personally, mages possessed by very real demons, but Marian and Nova had no demons, their instinct was from birth, but in the circle they'd both be made tranquil just the same. _Maker!_ A wave of nausea washed over him, what had he done?

Collecting himself, Sebastian glanced at his daughter once more. "I'd say we're done here, Nova." He said quietly, holding out a hand to the young lass. "Best we leave before anyone notices Vilkas is gone."

"But what about Mama?" cried Nova. "We can't leave without her!"

Sebastian sighed. "She's not here, sweet. Do you honestly believe if she were here, I'd leave without her?"

"Then where is she?" asked Nova, her voice squeaking upward, and very close to tears. "Dallas' father said she was here in the gallows, too."

"Well, he's wrong, then." Sebastian should have known his brother was behind this escape. Freeing an important prisoner was exactly the sort of thing Gabriel and his men had been doing to the Templars since they'd landed in Kirkwall. This time though, Sebastian was going to do everything he could to see that Gabe succeeded, and that meant leaving this cell with Nova at once.

He bent down and put his arms around his daughter's shoulders, surprising himself at how natural the simple action felt, and how readily, too, Nova in turn clung to him. She'd seemed so self-assured and grown up early, that Sebastian had forgotten how young she still was, and how scared she must be, until she buried her face against his shoulder. "Easy now, we'll find your mama," he said roughly as he patted her back. "I love her, you know, and I've no intention of losing her – or you – now. Besides, I have an idea where she might be."

Nova pulled back to look at him, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve. "You do?"

"I do indeed," said Sebastian, rising to his feet. "But we have to hurry now. I promise I'll tell you on the way." She nodded and sniffed loudly as she tried to smile. "Good lass," said Sebastian, kissing her quickly on the cheek. He pinched the candle in the lantern, leaving Vilkas in the same murky darkness he'd endured, and slipped the ring of keys around his wrist. "Now grab Lady, and we'll go."

Nova hurried to grab the doll and her basket. "Dallas' father said you're to meet him near the northwest wall, in the far corner of the gallows, and he'll toss you a rope. He said you're to squawk like a crow twice, the way you used to… He also said you knew what that meant."

"And I most certainly do, too." Sebastian took Nova by one hand and the dagger with the other. "You'll hear it yourself soon enough."

"Not this time, Pa," she said, shaking her head. "Dallas' father said I have to leave the same way I came, by the front door, so the guards won't suspect anything. I'm to tell them that Mr. Vilkas has gone to the toilets so they'll let me out. Dallas' father said—"

"Oh, the Black Divine take what Dallas' father said," said Sebastian gently. "You'll listen to what your own father says now, and I say you're coming with me, where I know you'll be safe."

Nova flashed the shy smile again, though now it wobbled with the tears she was trying so hard not to shed. "Very well," she said. "I will."

Sebastian shut the door after them, locking Vilkas inside for good measure, and they hurried to the far end of the narrow hall, to the door that opened to the outside yard. The long key was easy to find, and Sebastian eased the door open just far enough for him to see outside, the dagger ready in his hand. From his cell he'd heard guards patrolling this yard late at night, but tonight the small walled court was empty, at least for now. With his fingers across his lips to warn Nova to stay quiet, he tossed the ring of keys into the snow behind the outhouse and led her swiftly across the yard to the wall. After the narrow oppressive blackness of the cell, he felt exposed in the moonlight, as if every suspicious eye in Kirkwall might be turned their way, and he pressed himself flat against the thin band of shadow cast by the wall. Through the linen of his shirt, the bricks were rough against his arms, and only then did he remember that he wore no coat, the edge of excitement and fear enough to keep the chill of Kirkwall's frozen night, at bay.

Sebastian took a deep breath and mimicked the cawing of a crow, the high-pitched call bouncing back at him from the brick walls. As boys he and Gabe had practiced so much that they could confuse real birds into flying toward them, and Sebastian knew he hadn't forgotten any of the finer points. But no answering call came from the other side of the wall, nor did the promised rope come flying over the top.

_What if Nova had mistaken the directions? What if Gabe had been captured himself while waiting on the other side of the wall, or what if he and Nova had simply taken too much time inside the gallows that Gabriel had given up on them? What if he'd come this far, only to be recaptured again, and this time Nova was with him? And what if he never saw Marian again?_

"Maybe you should try again," whispered Nova. "Dallas' father said—"

"Hush now," Ordered Sebastian, far shaper than he'd intended. He strained to hear any guard or alarm over the painful thumping of his own heart. Over and over in battle he'd been faced down with certain death on the regular, but never had the stakes seemed so high. His mouth was dry and he swallowed hard, and then cupped his hands around his mouth once more, to repeat the caw. The familiar mocking caw, halfway to laughter, rose again over the wall.

Sebastian waited, concentrating everything on willing Gabriel's reply to come. Gabe _**HAD **_to be there. He wouldn't have abandoned them, he simply couldn't—

The answering cry rolled into the night, more piercing than any crow had a right to be at this hour, even at Solstice. Sebastian looked up just in time to see the knotted rope's end arc over the top of the wall to swing with a dull thump against the bricks. Sebastian grabbed the rope and jerked on it hard to test its strength. The rope was so clearly from some ship, a mariner's line still coated with old stains of tar, that Sebastian had to smile, imagining Gabriel commandeering it from some unsuspecting vessel in the harbor. But the rope would easily hold his weight, and that was what mattered most to him now.

Swiftly he tied the checkered cloth from the basket around his waist into an impromptu sash and thrust the dagger into it to free his hands, then held the rope out to Nova. "Sling that basket over your shoulder," he whispered, "then climb hand over hand up the wall. I'll be right after you. Easy enough, eh?"

But Nova shook her head; her arms wrapped tightly around Lady, and glanced longingly over her shoulder back to the gallows. "If it's all the same to you," she said, voice small. "I'd rather go back the way I came."

Sebastian groaned at his own thoughtlessness. His daughter was tough as nails, and quick as a whip, but she was a lady as well… "You don't know how, do you? Because of your robes and being a girl and all?"

Too ashamed to answer, Nova stared down at her feet.

Sebastian sighed. "Well, you've been brave enough before this, but I'll be damned before I let you go back in there. Now, give me Lady. Be quick, lass, Gabe's waiting!" Reluctantly Nova handed Sebastian the doll, and he stuffed it into the front of his waistcoat, leaving only Lady's head, with her frizzled hair, to peek crossly out from between the buttons. "Quickly now, onto my back," he ordered, bending so she could climb up. "And be careful not to throttle me, little lass." He could feel her fear by the way she clung to him, using her legs, as well as her arms, to keep herself from falling. "Hang on, sweet, that's a good lass," he reassured as he braced his foot against the wall. "Your mama will be expecting to see both of us."

But Nova was heavier than he realized, and the two days in the gallows had already taken their toll. The muscles in his arms quivered with strain, and he was close to gasping from exertion by the time he reached the top, Yet not once did Nova cry out or fight him, and he thought again, with pride, that she really _was_ a Vael, through and through.

It wasn't until they'd reached the ground and Gabe had lifted her from his back that Sebastian saw she had kept her eyes squeezed shut the whole time, and had them shut still. He grabbed her hand and followed Gabriel, Dallas and the elf he had seen at the Hanged Man so many nights ago. Though only a month or so ago the time felt much longer… Why was the lyrium elf here? Without contemplating it to long for fear of the answer, Sebastian began to run after the trio, running away from the wall and the gallows, not stopping until they'd reached the burying ground, all five of them dropping down into the protective shadows of the tall stone wall that surrounded it.

"There, Nova, it's done," said Sebastian breathlessly as he hugged her close. "I'm proud of you, sweet, and your ma will be too. Look here." He tapped the little hawk pendent pinned to his waistcoat. "That's your mama's crest, yes?" Sebastian questioned. Nova shook her head rapidly in agreement. "Well, it's my hawk too, and the luckiest, of lucky hawk pieces it is. No harm would dare come to us with this keeping guard, your Mama simply wouldn't allow it."

"Fine enough, Sebastian," said Gabriel impatiently, "but _WHERE_ is Marian? Should we go back an' cast the rope for her?"

Quickly Sebastian rose, his hands remaining protectively on Nova's shoulders. "Marian's not in there, Gabe. Cullen told me she's still at the Rose."

"The Rose?!" Gabriel swore with disbelief. "Damn it, Sebastian! We donnae' have _time_ tae' search all over Kirkwall fer' her!"

"We have time to search The Rose!" The lyrium elf interjected his words sharp, his demeanor unwavering.

"You can come or not, as you please Gabriel." Sebastian added silently grateful for the elf's…. Fenris, if he rememebered correctly, support. Though he suspected the support had nothing to do with Sebastian at all and everything to do with the lady in question. Jealousy laced him against his will and once more Sebastian caressed the little hawk pinned to his waistcoat. "I'm not leaving Kirkwall without Marian."

"Your Knight-Vigilant was lying, Pa," whispered Nova. "Look. Mama can't be in her quarters, there's no light in her window, and besides, she'd never leave the shutters open like that at night, not when it's this cold."

Sebastian nodded, drawing his shoulders more deeply into the anonymous old coat that Gabe had brought for him. From where they stood across the street from The Rose, hidden in the ruins of a house half torn down by the Templars, Marian's darkened window did stand out conspicuously amid the blaze of candlelight in the others.

The Templar commanders had chosen The Rose as the site of their Solstice celebrations, and even without a hostess to oversee their festivities, they were managing to entertain themselves most extravagantly, and boisterously, too, the shouts and singing spilling out into the otherwise quiet streets. Even the guards at the front door were sitting sprawled on the step, passing a bottle between them. As a commander himself, even with his now tarnished legacy, Sebastian was appalled by the disregard for their duty, their vows! And he saw the hypocrisy in his disgust, as he realized he'd likely be apart of the fun if things were different. No wonder his escape hadn't been noticed yet.

"Nova's right, Templar," said Fenris beside him, Sebastian, didn't miss the untrusting venom and bitterness in the elf's low voice.

"Nae' one's seen nor heard from Marian since they arrested ye' both." Gabriel added. "Not even her own brother last Ah' heard it. Ye' know as well as Ah' do Sebastian, that Marian would nae' sit quiet an' peaceful, even if they drain her mana. If they'd locked her up in there, she would've been calling from the window like a banshee. Ah' side with Nova. Marian's not there."

"Then she has to be elsewhere in the tavern," said Sebastian. "Cullen liked the notion of keeping her a prisoner in her own home too much to move her. Mark my word, he's hidden her somewhere else inside. Think, Nova. Is there some staff quarters or storage room under the foundations where he might have put her?"

Nova shook her head, her hands twisting each other. "The attic's full of soldiers, and the staff quarters don't have locks."

"The cellar," said Fenris, with sudden excitement, his voice pitching an octave higher seemingly in spite of himself. "That's it. There's a special storeroom down there where she hoards her wine and Vael rum. Marian had a padlock as big as a hillside put on the door to keep everyone but her out."

"And now it's keeping her in," said Sebastian bitterly, hating the image of Marian locked away alone in some dark, cold cellar. "Of course, Cullen would have taken her keys when they took her, but maybe we could force the lock."

Nova began hopping up and down from the cold and from excitement. "You don't have to force anything. Mama keeps another ring of keys hidden in a little door in the paneling outside her room."

"Then Ah'll go get them," declared Dallas. "Nae' one will notice me, an' Ah' can be back again in nae' time."

Nova scowled. "I'll go. I know where they are and you don't, and I—"

"Neither one of you is going," said Sebastian firmly. "Not with the place so full of Templar Knight-Commanders. It's too dangerous."

"No, it's not." Nova's hopping grew more insistent, the hood of her cloak bobbing up and down over her head. "I can go in through the stillroom door and then up the back stairs, the old twisty ones that only Mama and I use. Your probably too big." The girl said matter-of-factly. "Then I can come back and let you in by the cellar door. Please, Father, let me help!"

_Father_, the single word so grown up, her father… What father would let his only child go into direct danger, Sebastian sighed unhappily. He should be keeping her close to him, not sending her off alone into the firestorm. Marian would have his head if she knew what he contemplated. But what choice did he have, really? The girl was the only one who knew where her mother had hidden the second set, of secret keys, just as she was the only one who'd be able to find her way through the back passages of the old tavern.

"Alright then, lass," he said quickly, before he could change his mind. He reached inside his borrowed coat to unfasten the hawk pendent, and then bent to pin it on the front of Nova's gown. "You wear this for luck and let me have Lady. But if you're gone for more than ten minutes, we'll come in and get you out, understand?"

Nova nodded, her eyes shining as she handed Sebastian the doll and touched the hawk piece, then she turned and disappeared, darting off into the night, and as Sebastian watched her he wondered if he'd lost any shred of sanity he might still have. What had he done, trusting so much to an eleven-year-old girl?"

Gabriel pulled out his pocket watch, holding it cradled in his palm so that Sebastian could read it even in the shadows. "Ye' said ten minutes, an' ten minutes she'll get, brother," he said with gruff sympathy as he rested his hand on Dallas' shoulder. "Ye' must trust her, Sebastian. None o' us could do what she can. An' Marian will understand, too, if that's what ye're worried about. Likely she'd do the same fer' ye', given the choice." Fenris nodded in silent agreement, his white hair a striking contrast to the shadows they dwelled in.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was not so convinced, as he tucked the doll into his coat pocket. Marian had sent Nova to live with the Arainai's rather than have her near the Templar inquisition, and now he'd sent her smack into the middle of a Templar party. He glanced at Gabriel's watch, then again and yet again, and each time less than a minute had passed. Why in the Black Divine had he let her go on such an errand, anyway?

His gaze never leaving the front of the tavern, he ran his fingertips restlessly back and forth across the blunt edge of the dagger, each minute stretching longer and longer. Each minute was another chance for something to happen to Nova, another moment when the Templars could learn he'd escaped and raise an alarm. He let himself steal another glance at Gabe's watch. What exactly _would_ he do if Nova didn't return? There had to be at least thirty or forty Knight-Commanders in there, and as for the others—

"Here I am!" whispered Nova breathlessly, dodging in through the broken timbers behind them. She'd lost her cap, her bronze hair half-unpinned and trailing from her hood, but her face was radiant with triumph as she held a lumpy pillowcase like a trophy in both hands before her. "I had to wait and go round through the stable because there were two nasty soldiers being ill in the yard."

"You're alright?" demanded Sebastian. "No one tried to harm you?"

"Of course I'm alright. No one even saw me. Where's Lady?" Quickly she hugged the doll, then reached deep into the linen pillowcase. "Here are the keys, right where Ma left them. This one – here – that's the one to the cellar room."

"You're a wonder, lass." Sebastian slid the key from the ring and tucked the rest into his pocket. " What else is in the bag? Knight-Vigilant Cullen's sword and armour?"

Nova giggled with excitement. "Only some things from Mama's room that I thought she'd want, seeing as how we'll be leaving for good tonight in Aunt Bela's boat."

_For good_. Sebastian hadn't thought of it like that – he hadn't looked beyond finding Marian at all – but with a jolt he realized Nova was right. There was nothing left for any of them in Kirkwall now. His career with the Divine's elite was over, and so was hers as the keeper of The Rose and furthermore as the Viscountess of Kirkwall. They'd have to begin again, whether in Starkhaven or elsewhere. But whatever came next, they'd face it together, not only as husband and wife, but as a family, as well.

Together, that is, once he'd gotten his lady back. "As precious as those things must be, Nova, you're going to have to leave those with Uncle Gabe," he said as he checked the dagger to make sure it was secure, hiking the bow on his shoulder. "And I'm afraid you're going to have to trust them with Lady, too."

"I don't mind," said Nova. "He's already taking care of Princess, too. She's waiting for me in the stable, with Casey."

"But we're coming, too!" protested Dallas indignantly. "Is that nae' right, Pa? Ah' am not going tae' be left behind again, 'specially not with some double-blasted, double-damned _doll_!"

"Watch yer' tongue before Nova, son," warned Gabriel mildly. "An' aye, we'll be letting Sebastian an' his lass go without us. Lady Hawke does nae' need us all thumpin' down into her cellar after her."

He smiled at Sebastian as he took the pillowcase and doll from Nova. "We'll be waiting here fer' ye', brother, fer' ye' an' yer' two ladies."

"Mark that, Nova," The forgotten lyrium elf added, his care for the lass evident. "If you find yourself alone, you come find us, and we'll see you're taken care of." Sebastian clasped both the men's shoulders. He knew what they both were offering. It wasn't just that Nova could return here to them if she were separated from her parents tonight. But if both Sebastian and Marian should perish or be recaptured – very real possibilities- Then these men, his brother and Marian's friend were offering homes to their daughter.

"Thank you, both of you," Sebastian said softly. "For everything."

Both men shrugged from his grasp, the elf, to move to the shadows once more. Gabriel though, he shrugged away from his brother, embarrassed by the emotion that both of them felt. "Just so we're truly equal, eh, brother?" he said, swiping his sleeve self-consciously across his eyes. "Shove off now, both o' ye', an' be quick about it. Does nae' do tae' keep a fine woman like Lady Hawke waiting."

"Amen to that, Gabriel," said Sebastian quietly as Nova slipped her hand into his, ready to leave. "Amen to that."


End file.
